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(Mfjiiti  :it:i: 

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BB 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  NAULAHKA 


The  Naulahka 

I A  Story  of  West  and  East 
By  Rudyard  Kipling 

Written  in  collaboration  with 
Wolcott  Balestier 


GARDEN  CITY        NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1913 


COPYRIGHT,  1891, 
BY  EUDTARD  KIPLING  AND  WALCOTT  BALE8TIEB. 


New  Edition,  with  Rhymed  Chapter  Headings. 

COPYRIGHT,  1892, 
BT  MACMILLAN  AND  CO. 


COPYRIGHT,  1899. 
BT  EUDYARD  KIPLING. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 1 

CHAPTER  II 9 

CHAPTER  III ...        .27 

CHAPTER  IV 44 

CHAPTER  V 63 

CHAPTER  VI 70 

CHAPTER  VII. 98 

CHAPTER  VIII 102 

CHAPTER  IX .  114 

CHAPTER  X 140 

CHAPTER  XI 152 

CHAPTER  XIL 175 

CHAPTER  XIII 197 

CHAPTER  XIV 228 

CHAPTER  XV 240 

v 


5000902 


Vl  CONTENTS. 

MM 

CHAPTER  XVI 254 

CHAPTER  XVII 263 

CHAPTER  XVIII 289 

CHAPTER  XIX 314 

CHAPTER  XX 323 

CHAPTER  XXI.                                                                     ,  346 


THE    NAULAHKA. 

A    STORY    OF    WEST    AND    EAST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

There  was  a  strife  'twixt  man  and  maid  — 

O  that  was  at  the  birth  o'  time ! 
But  what  befell  'twixt  man  and  maid, 

0  that's  beyond  the  grip  o'  rhyme. 

'Twas :  "  Sweet,  I  must  not  bide  wi'  you," 

And :  "  Love,  I  canna  bide  alone  "  ; 
For  baith  were  young,  and  baith  were  true, 

And  baith  were  hard  as  the  nether  stone.* 

Auchinleck's  Ride. 

NICHOLAS  TARVIN  sat  in  the  moonlight  on  the 
unrailed  bridge  that  crossed  the  irrigating-ditch 
above  Topaz,  dangling  his  feet  over  the  stream. 
A  brown,  sad-eyed  little  woman  sat  beside  him, 
staring  quietly  at  the  moon.  She  was  tanned  with 
the  tan  of  the  girl  who  does  not  mind  wind  and 
rain  and  sun,  and  her  eyes  were  sad  with  the  set- 
tled melancholy  of  eyes  that  know  big  mountains, 
and  seas  of  plain,  and  care,  and  life.  The  women 
of  the  West  shade  such  eyes  under  their  hands  at 
sunset  in  their  cabin  doors,  scanning  those  hills  or 

B  *  Copyright,  1802,  by  Macmillan  *  Co,  1 


2  THE  NAULAHKA. 

those  grassless,  treeless  plains  for  the  home-coming 
of  their  men.  A  hard  life  is  always  hardest  for 
the  woman. 

Kate  Sheriff  had  lived  with  her  face  to  the  west 
and  with  her  smouldering  eyes  fixed  upon  the  wil- 
derness since  she  could  walk.  She  had  advanced 
into  the  wilderness  with  the  railroad.  Until  she 
had  gone  away  to  school  she  had  never  lived  where 
the  railroad  ran  both  ways.  She  had  often  stayed 
long  enough  at  the  end  of  a  section  with  her  family 
to  see  the  first  glimmering  streaks  of  the  raw  dawn 
of  civilization,  usually  helped  out  by  the  electric 
light;  but  in  the  new  and  still  newer  lands  to 
which  her  father's  civil-engineering  orders  called 
them  from  year  to  year  there  were  not  even  arc 
lamps.  There  was  a  saloon  under  a  tent,  and  there 
was  the  section-house,  where  they  lived,  and  where 
her  mother  had  sometimes  taken  to  board  the  men 
employed  by  her  husband.  But  it  was  not  these 
influences  alone  that  had  produced  the  young  woman 
of  twenty-three  who  sat  near  Tarvin,  and  who  had 
just  told  him  gently  that  she  liked  him,  but  that 
she  had  a  duty  elsewhere. 

This  duty,  as  she  conceived  it,  was,  briefly,  to 
spend  her  life  in  the  East  in  the  effort  to  better  the 
condition  of  the  women  of  India.  It  had  come  to 
her  as  an  inspiration  and  a  command  two  years 
before,  toward  the  end  of  her  second  year  at  the  St. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  3 

Louis  school  where  she  went  to  tie  up  the  loose  ends 
of  the  education  she  had  given  herself  in  lonely 
camps. 

Kate's  mission  had  been  laid  on  her  one  April 
afternoon  warmed  and  sunned  with  the  first  breath 
of  spring.  The  green  trees,  the  swelling  buds,  and 
the  sunlight  outside  had  tempted  her  from  the 
prospect  of  a  lecture  on  India  by  a  Hindu  woman; 
and  it  was  finally  because  it  was  a  school  duty  not 
to  be  escaped  that  she  listened  to  Pundita  Ramabai's 
account  of  the  sad  case  of  her  sisters  at  home.  It 
was  a  heart-breaking  story,  and  the  girls,  making 
the  offerings  begged  of  them  in  strange  accents, 
went  from  it  stilled  and  awed  to  the  measure  of 
their  natures,  and  talked  it  over  in  the  corridors 
in  whispers  until  a  nervous  giggle  broke  the  tension, 
and  they  began  chattering  again. 

Kate  made  her  way  from  the  hall  with  the  fixed, 
inward-looking  eye,  the  flaming  cheek,  and  air- 
borne limbs  of  one  on  whom  the  mantle  of  the  Spirit 
has  descended.  She  went  quickly  out  into  the 
school-garden,  away  from  everybody,  and  paced  the 
flower-bordered  walks,  exalted,  rich,  sure,  happy. 
She  had  found  herself.  The  flowers  knew  it,  the 
tender-leaved  trees  overhead  were  aware,  the  shin- 
ing sky  had  word.  Her  head  was  high ;  she  wanted 
to  dance,  and,  much  more,  she  wanted  to  cry.  A 
pulse  in  her  forehead  went  beat,  beat;  the  warm 


4  THE  NAULAHKA. 

blood  sang  through  her  veins;  she  stopped  every 
little  while  to  take  a  deep  draft  of  the  good  air.  In 
those  moments  she  dedicated  herself. 

All  her  life  should  take  breath  from  this  hour; 
she  vowed  it  to  the  service  this  day  revealed  to  her, 
as  once  to  the  prophets  —  vowed  all  her  strength 
and  mind  and  heart.  The  angel  of  the  Lord  had 
laid  a  command  upon  her.  She  obeyed  joyfully. 

And  now  after  two  years  spent  in  fitting  herself 
for  her  calling  she  returned  to  Topaz,  a  capable  and 
instructed  nurse,  on  fire  for  her  work  in  India,  to 
find  that  Tarvin  wished  her  to  stay  at  Topaz  and 
marry  him. 

"You  can  call  it  what  you  like,"  Tarvin  told  her, 
while  she  gazed  at  the  moon ;  "  you  can  call  it  duty, 
or  you  can  call  it  woman's  sphere,  or  you  can  call 
it,  as  that  meddling  missionary  called  it  at  church 
to-night,  'carrying  the  light  to  them  that  sit  in 
darkness.'  I've  no  doubt  you've  got  a  halo  to  put 
to  it;  they've  taught  you  names  enough  for  things 
in  the  East.  But  for  me,  what  I  say  is,  it's  a 
freeze-out." 

"Don't  say  that,  Nick.     It's  a  call." 

"You've  got  a  call  to  stay  at  home;  and  if  you 
haven't  heard  of  it,  I'm  a  committee  to  notify  you," 
said  Tarvin,  doggedly.  He  shied  a  pebble  into  the 
irrigating-ditch,  and  eyed  the  racing  current  with 
lowering  brows. 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  5 

"Dear  Nick,  how  can  you  bear  to  urge  any  one 
who  is  free  to  stay  at  home  and  shirk  after  what 
we've  heard  to-night?" 

"Well,  by  the  holy  smoke,  some  one  has  got  to 
urge  girls  to  stand  by  the  old  machine,  these  days ! 
You  girls  are  no  good  at  all  under  the  new  regu- 
lations until  you  desert.  It's  the  road  to  honor." 

"Desert!"  gasped  Kate.  She  turned  her  eyes 
on  him. 

"Well,  what  do  you  call  it?  That's  what  the 
little  girl  I  used  to  know  on  Section  10  of  the  N.  P. 
and  Y.  would  have  called  it.  O  Kate  dear,  put 
yourself  back  in  the  old  days;  remember  yourself 
then,  remember  what  we  used  to  be  to  each  other, 
and  see  if  you  don't  see  it  that  way.  You've  got  a 
father  and  mother,  haven't  you?  You  can't  say  it's 
the  square  thing  to  give  them  up.  And  you've  got 
a  man  sitting  beside  you  on  this  bridge  who  loves 
you  for  all  he's  worth  —  loves  you,  you  dear  old 
thing,  for  keeps.  You  used  to  like  him  a  little  bit 
too.  Eh?" 

He  slid  his  arm  about  her  as  he  spoke,  and  for  a 
moment  she  let  it  rest  there. 

"Does  that  mean  nothing  to  you  either?  Don't 
you  seem  to  see  a  call  here  too,  Kate  ?  " 

He  forced  her  to  turn  her  face  to  him,  and  gazed 
wistfully  into  her  eyes  for  a  moment.  They  were 
brown,  and  the  moonlight  deepened  their  sober 
depths. 


6  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Do  you  think  you  have  a  claim?"  she  asked, 
after  a  moment. 

"I'll  think  almost  anything  to  keep  you.  But 
no;  I  haven't  any  claim  —  or  none  at  least  that  you 
are  not  free  to  jump.  But  we  all  have  a  claim; 
hang  it,  the  situation  has  a  claim.  If  you  don't 
stay,  you  go  back  on  it.  That's  what  I  mean." 

"You  don't  take  a  serious  view  of  things,  Nick," 
she  said,  putting  down  his  arm. 

Tarvin  didn't  see  the  connection;  but  he  said 
good-humoredly,  "Oh,  yes,  I  do!  There's  no  serious 
view  of  life  I  won't  take  in  fun  to  please  you." 

"You  see  —  you're  not  in  earnest." 

"There's  one  thing  I'm  in  earnest  about,"  he 
whispered  in  her  ear. 

"Is  there?"     She  turned  away  her  head. 

"I  can't  live  without  you."  He  leaned  toward 
her,  and  added  in  a  lower  voice,  "Another  thing, 
Kate  — I  won't." 

Kate  compressed  her  lips.  She  had  her  own  will. 
They  sat  on  the  bridge  beating  out  their  difference 
until  they  heard  the  kitchen  clock  in  a  cabin  on  the 
other  side  of  the  ditch  strike  eleven.  The  stream 
came  down  out  of  the  mountains  that  loomed  above 
them;  they  were  half  a  mile  from  the  town.  The 
stillness  and  the  loneliness  closed  on  Tarvin  with 
a  physical  grip  as  Kate  got  up  and  said  decisively 
that  she  must  go  home.  He  knew  she  meant  that 


A  8TOEY   OF   WEST   AND  BAST.  7 

she  must  go  to  India,  and  his  own  will  crumpled 
helplessly  for  the  moment  within  hers.  He  asked 
himself  whether  this  was  the  will  by  which  he  earned 
his  living,  the  will  which  at  twenty-eight  had  made 
him  a  successful  man  by  Topaz  standards,  which 
was  taking  him  to  the  State  legislature,  and  which 
would  one  day  take  him  much  further,  unless  what 
ceased  to  be  what.  He  shook  himself  scornfully; 
but  he  had  to  add  to  himself  that  after  all  she  was 
only  a  girl,  if  he  did  love  her,  before  he  could  stride 
to  her  side,  as  she  turned  her  back  on  him,  and  say, 
"See  here,  young  woman,  you're  away  off!" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  walked  on. 

"You're  not  going  to  throw  your  life  away  on 
this  Indian  scheme,"  he  pursued.  "I  won't  have  it. 
Your  father  won't  have  it.  Your  mother  will  kick 
and  scream  at  it,  and  I'll  be  there  to  encourage  her. 
We  have  some  use  for  your  life,  if  you  haven't. 
You  don't  know  the  size  of  your  contract.  The 
land  isn't  fit  for  rats;  it's  the  Bad  Lands, — yes; 
that's  just  what  it  is,  a  great  big  Bad  Lands,  — 
morally,  physically,  and  agriculturally,  Bad  Lands. 
It's  no  place  for  white  men,  let  alone  white  women; 
there's  no  climate,  no  government,  no  drainage; 
and  there's  cholera,  heat,  and  fighting  until  you 
can't  rest.  You'll  find  it  all  in  the  Sunday  papers. 
You  want  to  stay  right  where  you  are,  young 
lady." 


8  THE  NAULAHKA. 

She  stopped  a  moment  in  the  road  they  were  fol- 
lowing back  to  Topaz  and  glanced  at  his  face  in 
the  moonlight.  He  took  her  hand,  and,  for  all  his 
masterfulness,  awaited  her  word  with  parted  lips. 

"You're  a  good  man,  Nick,  but"  —  she  drooped 
her  eyes  —  "I'm  going  to  sail  on  the  31st  for  Cal- 
cutta." 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Beware  the  man  who's  crossed  in  lore, 
For  pent-up  steam  must  find  its  vent ; 

Step  back  when  he  is  on  the  move 
And  lend  him  all  the  continent.* 

The  Buck  and  the  Saw. 

To  sail  from  New  York  the  31st  she  must  leave 
Topaz  by  the  27th  at  latest.  It  was  now  the  15th. 
Tarvin  made  the  most  of  the  intervening  time. 
He  called  on  her  at  her  home  every  evening,  and 
argued  it  out  with  her. 

Kate  listened  with  the  gentlest  willingness  to 
be  convinced,  but  with  a  dread  firmness  round  the 
corners  of  her  mouth,  and  with  a  sad  wish  to  be 
good  to  him,  if  she  could,  battling  in  her  eyes  with 
a  sadder  helplessness. 

"I'm  called,"  she  cried.  "I'm  called.  I  can't 
get  away  from  it.  I  can't  help  listening.  I  can't 
help  going." 

And,  as  she  told  him,  grieving,  how  the  cry  of  her 
sisters  out  of  that  dim  misery,  that  was  yet  so  dis- 
tinct, tugged  at  her  heart,  how  the  useless  horror 
and  torture  of  their  lives  called  on  her  by  night 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  Macmillan  X  Co. 


10  THE  NATTLAHKA. 

and  by  day,  Tarvin  could  not  refuse  to  respect 
the  solemnly  felt  need  that  drew  her  from  him. 
He  could  not  help  begging  her  in  every  accent 
he  knew  not  to  harken  to  it,  but  the  painful 
pull  of  the  cry  she  heard  was  not  a  strange  or 
incredible  thing  to  his  own  generous  heart.  He 
only  urged  hotly  that  there  were  other  cries,  and 
that  there  were  other  people  to  attend  to  this  one. 
He,  too,  had  a  need,  the  need  for  her;  and  she 
another,  if  she  would  stop  a  moment  to  listen  to  it. 
They  needed  each  other ;  that  was  the  supreme  need. 
The  women  in  India  could  wait;  they  would  go 
over  and  look  them  up  later,  when  the  Three 
C.'s  had  come  to  Topaz,  and  he  had  made  his  pile. 
Meanwhile  there  was  happiness ;  meanwhile  there 
was  love.  He  was  ingenious,  he  was  deeply  in  love, 
he  knew  what  he  wanted,  and  he  found  the  most 
persuasive  language  for  making  it  seem  to  be  what 
she  wanted  in  disguise.  Kate  had  to  strengthen  her 
resolution  often  in  the  intervals  between  his  visits. 
She  could  not  say  much  in  reply.  She  had  no  such 
gift  of  communicating  herself  as  Tarvin.  Hers  was 
the  still,  deep,  voiceless  nature  that  can  only  feel  and 
act. 

She  had  the  kind  of  pluck  and  the  capacity  for 
silent  endurance  which  goes  with  such  natures,  or  she 
must  often  have  faltered  and  turned  back  from  the 
resolve  which  had  come  upon  her  in  the  school- 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  11 

garden  that  spring  day,  in  the  two  years  that  fol- 
lowed it.  Her  parents  were  the  first  obstacle.  They 
refused  outright  to  allow  her  to  study  medicine. 
She  had  wished  to  be  both  physician  and  nurse,  be- 
lieving that  in  India  she  would  find  use  for  both  call- 
ings; but  since  she  could  follow  only  one,  she  was 
content  to  enroll  herself  as  a  student  at  a  New  York 
training-school  for  nurses,  and  this  her  parents  suf- 
fered in  the  bewilderment  of  finding  that  they  had 
forgotten  how  to  oppose  her  gently  resolute  will 
through  the  lifelong  habit  of  yielding  to  it. 

Her  ideas  had  made  her  mother  wish,  when  she 
explained  them  to  her,  that  she  had  let  her  grow 
up  wild,  as  she  had  once  seemed  certain  to  do.  She 
was  even  sorry  that  the  child's  father  had  at  last 
found  something  to  do  away  from  the  awful  railroad. 
The  railroad  now  ran  two  ways  from  Topaz ;  Kate 
had  returned  from  school  to  find  the  track  stretching 
a  hundred  miles  to  the  westward,  and  her  family 
still  there.  This  time  the  boom  had  overtaken  them 
before  they  could  get  away.  Her  father  had  bought 
city  lots  in  the  acre  form  and  was  too  rich  to  move. 
He  had  given  up  his  calling  and  had  gone  into 
politics. 

Sheriff's  love  for  his  daughter  was  qualified  by 
his  general  flatness  ;  but  it  was  the  clinging  affection 
not  uncommon  with  shallow  minds,  and  he  had  the 
habit  of  indulgence  toward  her  which  is  the  portion 


12  THE  NAULAHKA. 

of  an  only  child.  He  was  accustomed  to  say  that 
"what  she  did  was  about  right,"  he  guessed,  and 
he  was  usually  content  to  let  it  go  at  that.  He  was 
anxious  now  that  his  riches  should  do  her  some 
good,  and  Kate  had  not  the  heart  to  tell  him  the 
ways  she  had  found  to  make  them  do  her  good.  To 
her  mother  she  confided  all  her  plan;  to  her  father 
she  only  said  that  she  wished  to  learn  to  be  a  trained 
nurse.  Her  mother  grieved  in  secret  with  the  grim, 
philosophic,  almost  cheerful  hopelessness  of  women 
whose  lives  have  taught  them  always  to  expect  the 
worst.  It  was  a  sore  trial  to  Kate  to  disappoint 
her  mother,  and  it  cut  her  to  the  heart  to  know  that 
she  could  not  do  what  both  her  father  and  mother 
expected  of  her.  Indefinite  as  the  expectation  was, 

—  it  was   simply  that  she  should  come  home  and 
live,  and  be  a  young  lady,  like  the  rest  of  the  world, 

—  she  felt  its  justice  and  reason,  and  she  did  not 
weep  the  less  for  them  because  for  herself  she  be- 
lieved, modestly,  that  it  was  ordered  otherwise. 

This  was  her  first  trouble.  The  dissonance 
between  those  holy  moments  in  the  garden  and 
the  hard  prose  which  was  to  give  them  reality  and 
effect  grew  deeper  as  she  went  on.  It  was  daunt- 
ing, and  sometimes  it  was  heart-sickening;  but  she 
went  forward  —  not  always  strong,  not  every  mo- 
ment brave,  and  only  a  very  little  wise,  but  always 
forward. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  13 

The  life  at  the  training-school  was  a  cruel  dis- 
illusion. She  had  not  expected  the  path  she  had 
set  before  her  to  bloom  with  ease;  but  at  the  end 
of  her  first  month  she  could  have  laughed  bitterly 
at  the  difference  between  her  consecrating  dreams 
and  the  fact.  The  dreams  looked  to  her  vocation; 
the  fact  took  no  account  of  it.  She  had  hoped  to 
befriend  misery,  to  bring  help  and  healing  to  pain 
from  the  first  days  of  her  apprenticeship.  What  she 
was  actually  set  to  do  was  to  scald  babies'  milk- 
cans. 

Her  further  duties  in  these  early  days  were  no 
more  nearly  related  to  the  functions  of  a  nurse,  and 
looking  about  her  among  the  other  girls  to  see  how 
they  kept  their  ideals  alight  in  the  midst  of  work 
so  little  connected  with  their  future  calling,  she 
perceived  that  they  got  on  for  the  most  part  by  not 
having  any.  As  she  advanced,  and  was  trusted  first 
with  babies  themselves,  and  later  with  the  actual 
work  of  nursing,  she  was  made  to  feel  how  her  own 
purpose  isolated  her.  The  others  were  here  for 
business.  With  one  or  two  exceptions  they  had 
apparently  taken  up  nursing  as  they  might  have 
taken  up  dressmaking.  They  were  here  to  learn 
how  to  make  twenty  dollars  a  week,  and  the  sense 
of  this  dispirited  her  even  more  than  the  work  she 
was  given  to  do  as  a  preparation  for  her  high  call- 
ing. The  talk  of  the  Arkansas  girl  who  sat  on  a 


14  THE  NAULAHKA. 

table  and  swung  her  legs  while  she  discussed  her 
flirtations  with  the  young  doctors  at  the  clinics 
seemed  in  itself  sometimes  a  final  discouragement. 
Through  all  ran  the  bad  food,  the  scanty  sleep,  the 
insufficient  hours  for  recreation,  the  cruelly  long 
hours  assigned  for  work,  the  nervous  strain  of  sup- 
porting the  life  from  the  merely  physical  point  of 
view. 

In  addition  to  the  work  which  she  shared  with 
the  others,  she  was  taking  regular  lessons  in  Hin- 
dustani, and  she  was  constantly  grateful  for  the 
earlier  days  which  had  given  her  robust  health  and 
a  sound  body.  Without  them  she  must  often  have 
broken  down :  and  soon  it  began  to  be  a  duty  not 

o  */ 

to  break  down,  because  it  had  become  possible  to 
help  suffering  a  little.  It  was  this  which  reconciled 
her  finally  to  the  low  and  sordid  conditions  under 
which  the  whole  affair  of  her  preparation  went  on. 

The  repulsive  aspects  of  the  nursing  itself  she 
did  not  mind.  On  the  contrary  she  found  herself 
liking  them  as  she  got  into  the  swing  of  her  work  ; 
and  when,  at  the  end  of  her  first  year,  she  was 
placed  in  charge  of  a  ward  at  the  woman's  hospital, 
under  another  nurse,  she  began  to  feel  herself 
drawing  in  sight  of  her  purpose,  and  kindled  with 
an  interest  which  made  even  the  surgical  operations 
seem  good  to  her  because  they  helped,  and  because 
they  allowed  her  to  help  a  little. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  15 

From  this  time  she  went  on  working  strongly  and 
efficiently  toward  her  end.  Above  all  she  wanted 
to  be  competent,  to  be  wise  and  thorough.  When 
the  time  came  when  those  helpless,  walled-up  women 
should  have  no  knowledge  and  no  comfort  to  lean 
on  but  hers,  she  meant  that  they  should  lean  on  the 
strength  of  solid  intelligence.  Her  trials  were 
man}'-,  but  it  was  her  consolation  in  the  midst  of 
them  all  that  her  women  loved  her,  and  lived  upon 
her  comings  and  goings.  Her  devotion  to  her  pur- 
pose carried  her  forward.  She  was  presently  in  full 
charge,  and  in  that  long,  bare  ward  where  she 
strengthened  so  many  sufferers  for  the  last  part- 
ing, where  she  lived  with  death  and  dealt  with  it, 
where  she  went  about  softly,  soothing  unspeakable 
pain,  learning  the  note  of  human  anguish,  hearing 
no  sound  but  the  murmur  of  suffering  or  relief,  she 
sounded  one  night  the  depths  of  her  own  nature, 
and  received  from  an  inward  monitor  the  confirma- 
tion of  her  mission.  She  consecrated  herself  to  it 
afresh  with  a  joy  beyond  her  first  joy  of  discovery. 

And  now  every  night  at  half-past  eight  Tarvin's 
hat  hung  on  the  hat-rack  in  the  hallway  of  her 
home.  He  removed  it  gloomily  at  a  little  after 
eleven,  spending  the  interval  in  talking  over  her 
mission  with  her  persuasively,  commandingly,  im- 
ploringly, indignantly.  His  indignation  was  for 
her  plan,  but  it  would  sometimes  irrepressibly  trans- 


16  THE  NAULAHKA. 

fer  itself  to  Kate.  She  was  capable  not  only  of 
defending  her  plan  but  of  defending  herself  and 
keeping  her  temper;  and  as  this  last  was  an  art 
beyond  Nick,  these  sessions  often  came  to  an  end 
suddenly,  and  early  in  the  evening.  But  the  next 
night  he  would  come  and  sit  before  her  in  penitence, 
and  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and  his  head 
supported  moodily  in  his  hands,  would  entreat  her 
submissively  to  have  some  sense.  This  never  lasted 
long,  and  evenings  of  this  kind  usually  ended  in 
his  trying  to  pound  sense  into  her  by  hammering 
his  chair-arm  with  a  convinced  fist. 

No  tenderness  could  leave  Tarvin  without  the 
need  to  try  to  make  others  believe  as  he  did;  but 
it  was  a  good-humored  need,  and  Kate  did  not 
dislike  it.  She  liked  so  many  things  about  him 
that  often  as  they  sat  thus,  facing  each  other,  she 
let  her  fancy  wander  where  it  had  wandered  in  her 
school-girl  vacations  —  in  a  possible  future  spent 
by  his  side.  She  brought  her  fancy  back  again 
sharply.  She  had  other  things  to  think  of  now ;  but 
there  must  always  be  something  between  her  and 
Tarvin  different  from  her  relation  to  any  other  man. 
They  had  lived  in  the  same  house  on  the  prairie 
at  the  end  of  the  section,  and  had  risen  to  take  up 
the  same  desolate  life  together  morning  after  morn- 
ing. The  sun  brought  the  morning  grayly  up  over 
the  sad  gray  plain,  and  at  night  left  them  alone 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  17 

together  in  the  midst  of  the  terrible  spaces  of  silence. 
They  broke  the  ice  together  in  the  muddy  river  near 
the  section-house,  and  Tarvin  carried  her  pail  back 
for  her.  A  score  of  other  men  lived  under  the  same 
roof,  but  it  was  Tarvin  who  was  kind.  The  others 
ran  to  do  what  she  asked  them  to  do ;  Tarvin  found 
things  to  do,  and  did  them  while  she  slept.  There 
was  plenty  to  do.  Her  mother  had  a  family  of 
twenty-five,  twenty  of  whom  were  boarders  —  the 
men  working  in  one  capacity  or  another  directly 
under  Sheriff.  The  hands  engaged  in  the  actual 
work  of  building  the  railroad  lived  in  huge  barracks 
near  by,  or  in  temporary  cabins  or  tents.  The 
Sheriffs  had  a  house ;  that  is,  they  lived  in  a  struct- 
ure with  projecting  eaves,  windows  that  could  be 
raised  or  lowered,  and  a  veranda.  But  this  was  the 
sum  of  their  conveniences,  and  the  mother  and 
daughter  did  their  work  alone,  with  the  assistance 
of  two  Swedes  whose  muscles  were  firm  but  whose 
cookery  was  vague. 

Tarvin  helped  her,  and  she  learned  to  lean  on 
him ;  she  let  him  help  her,  and  Tarvin  loved  her  for 
it.  The  bond  of  work  shared,  of  a  mutual  depen- 
dence, of  isolation,  drew  them  to  each  other;  and 
when  Kate  left  the  section-house  for  school  there 
was  a  tacit  understanding  between  them.  The 
essence  of  such  an  understanding  of  course  lies  in 
the  woman's  recognition  of  it.  When  she  came 


18  THE  NAULAHKA. 

back  from  school  for  the  first  holiday,  Kate's  manner 
did  not  deny  her  obligation,  but  did  not  confirm  the 
understanding,  and  Tarvin,  restless  and  insistent 
as  he  was  about  other  things,  did  not  like  to  force 
his  claim  upon  her.  It  wasn't  a  claim  he  could  take 
into  court. 

This  kind  of  forbearance  was  well  enough  while 
he  expected  to  have  her  always  within  reach,  while 
he  imagined  for  her  the  ordinary  future  of  an  un- 
married girl.  But  when  she  said  she  was  going  to 
India  she  changed  the  case.  He  was  not  thinking 
of  courtesy  or  forbearance,  or  of  the  propriety  of 
waiting  to  be  formally  accepted,  as  he  talked  to  her 
on  the  bridge,  and  afterward  in  the  evenings.  He 
ached  with  his  need  for  her,  and  with  the  desire  to 
keep  her. 

But  it  looked  as  if  she  were  going  —  going  in 
spite  of  everything  he  could  say,  in  spite  of  his  love. 
He  had  made  her  believe  in  that,  if  it  was  any 
comfort;  and  it  was  real  enough  to  her  to  hurt  her, 
which  was  a  comfort ! 

Meanwhile  she  was  costing  him  much  in  one  way 
and  another,  and  she  liked  him  well  enough  to  have 
a  conscience  about  it.  But  when  she  would  tell 
him  that  he  must  not  waste  so  much  time  and 
thought  on  her,  he  would  ask  her  not  to  bother  her 
little  head  about  him :  he  saw  more  in  her  than  he 
did  in  real  estate  or  politics  just  then;  he  knew 
what  he  was  about. 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  19 

"I  know,"  returned  Kate.  "But  you  forget  what 
a  delicate  position  you  put  me  in.  I  don't  want  to 
be  responsible  for  your  defeat.  Your  party  will  say 
I  planned  it." 

Tarvin  made  a  positive  and  unguarded  remark 
about  his  party,  to  which  Kate  replied  that  if  he 
didn't  care  she  must;  she  couldn't  have  it  said,  after 
the  election,  that  he  had  neglected  his  canvass  for 
her,  and  that  her  father  had  won  his  seat  in  conse- 
quence. 

"Of  course,"  she  added  frankly,  "I  want  father 
to  go  to  the  State  legislature,  and  I  don't  want  you 
to  go,  because  if  you  win  the  election,  he  can't; 
but  I  don't  want  to  help  prevent  you  from  getting . 
in." 

"Don't  worry  about  your  father  getting  that  seat, 
young  lady,"  cried?  Tarvin.  "If  that's  all  you've 
got  to  lie  awake  about,  you  can  sleep  from  now  until 
the  Three  C.'s  comes  to  Topaz.  I'm  going  to  Den- 
ver myself  this  fall,  and  you'd  better  make  your 
plans  to  come  along.  Come!  How  would  it  suit 
you  to  be  the  speaker's  wife,  and  live  on  Capitol 
Hill?" 

Kate  liked  him  well  enough  to  go  half  credulously 
with  him  in  his  customary  assumption  that  tha 
difference  between  his  having  anything  he  wanted 
and  his  not  having  it  was  the  difference  between  his 
wanting  it  and  his  not  wanting  it. 


20  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Nick!"  she  exclaimed,  deriding,  but  doubtful, 
*you  won't  be  speaker!" 

"I'd  undertake  to  be  governor,  if  I  thought  the 
idea  would  fetch  you.  Give  me  a  word  of  hope, 
and  you'll  see  what  I'd  do." 

"No,  no!"  she  said,  shaking  her  head.  "My 
governors  are  all  rajahs,  and  they  live  a  long  way 
from  here." 

"But  say,  India's  half  the  size  of  the  United 
States.  Which  State  are  you  going  to?" 

"Which  —  ?" 

"Ward,  township,  county,  section?  What's  your 
post-office  address?" 

"Rhatore,  in  the  province  of  Gokral  Seetarun, 
Rajputana,  India." 

"  All  that !  "  he  repeated  despairingly.  There 
was  a  horrible  definiteness  about  it;  it  almost  made 
him  believe  she  was  going.  He  saw  her  drifting 
hopelessly  out  of  his  life  into  a  land  on  the  nether 
rim  of  the  world,  named  out  of  the  Arabian  Nights, 
and  probably  populated  out  of  them.  "Nonsense, 
Kate!  You're  not  going  to  try  to  live  in  any  such 
heathen  fairyland.  What's  it  got  to  do  with  Topaz, 
Kate?  What's  it  got  to  do  with  home?  You  can't 
do  it,  I  tell  you.  Let  them  nurse  themselves. 
Leave  it  to  them.  Or  leave  it  to  me.  I'll  go  over 
myself,  turn  some  of  their  pagan  jewels  into  money, 
and  organize  a  nursing  corps  on  a  plan  that  you 


A   STORY   OF    WEST   AND    EAST  21 

shall  dictate.  Then  we'll  be  married,  and  I'll  take 
you  out  to  look  at  my  work.  I'll  make  a  go  of 
it.  Don't  say  they're  poor.  That  necklace  alone 
would  fetch  money  enough  to  organize  an  army  of 
nurses.  If  your  missionary  told  the  truth  in  his 
sermon  at  church  the  other  night,  it  would  pay  the 
national  debt.  Diamonds  the  size  of  hens'  eggs, 
yokes  of  pearls,  coils  of  sapphires  the  girth  of  a 
man's  wrist,  and  emeralds  until  you  can't  rest  — 
and  they  hang  all  that  around  the  neck  of  an  idol,  or 
keep  it  stored  in  a  temple^  and  call  on  decent  white 
girls  to  come  out  and  help  nurse  them  I  It's  what 
I  call  cheek." 

"As  if  money  could  help  them  I  It's  not  that. 
There's  no  charity  or  kindness  or  pity  in  money, 
Nick;  the  only  real  help  is  to  give  yourself." 

"All  right.  Then  give  me  too.  I'll  go  along," 
he  said,  returning  to  the  safer  humorous  view. 

She  laughed,  but  stopped  herself  suddenly.  "  You 
mustn't  come  to  India,  Nick.  You  won't  do  that. 
You  won't  follow  me.  You  gha'n't." 

"Well,  if  I  get  a  place  as  rajah,  I  don't  say  I 
wouldn't.  There  might  be  a  dollar  in  it." 

"Nick I  They  wouldn't  let  an  American  be  a 
rajah." 

It  is  strange  that  men  to  whom  life  is  a  joke  find 
comfort  in  women  to  whom  it  is  a  prayer. 

"They  might  let  him  run  a  rajah,  though,"  said 


22  THE   NAULAHKA. 

Tarvin,  undisturbed;  "and  it  might  be  the  softer 
snap.  Rajahing  itself  is  classed  extra-hazardous,  I 
think." 

"How?" 

"By  the  accident  insurance  companies  —  double 
premium.  None  of  my  companies  would  touch  the 
risk.  They  might  take  a  vizier  though,"  he  added 
meditatively.  "  They  come  from  that  Arabian  Nights 
section,  don't  they?" 

"  Well,  you  are  not  to  come,"  she  said  definitively. 
"You  must  keep  away.  Remember  that." 

Tarvin  got  up  suddenly.  "Oh,  good  night! 
Q-ood  night!"  he  cried. 

He  shook  himself  together  impatiently,  and  waved 
her  from  him  with  a  parting  gesture  of  rejection  and 
cancellation.  She  followed  him  into  the  passage, 
where  he  was  gloomily  taking  his  hat  from  its 
wonted  peg;  but  he  would  not  even  let  her  help 
him  on  with  his  coat. 

No  man  can  successfully  conduct  a  love-affair  and 
a  political  canvass  at  the  same  time.  It  was  perhaps 
the  perception  of  this  fact  that  had  led  Sheriff  to 
bend  an  approving  eye  on  the  attentions  which  his 
opponent  in  the  coming  election  had  lately  been 
paying  his  daughter.  Tarvin  had  always  been  in- 
terested in  Kate,  but  not  so  consecutively  and 
intensely.  Sheriff  was  stumping  the  district,  and 
was  seldom  at  home,  but  in  his  irregular  appearances 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  BAST.  23 

at  Topaz  he  smiled  stolidly  on  his  rival's  occupation. 
In  looking  forward  to  an  easy  victory  over  him  in 
the  joint  debate  at  Canon  City,  however,  he  had 
perhaps  relied  too  much  on  the  younger  man's  ab- 
sorption. Tarvin's  consciousness  that  he  had  not 
been  playing  his  party  fair  had  lately  chafed  against 
his  pride  of  success.  The  result  was  irritation,  and 
Kate's  prophecies  and  insinuations  were  pepper  on 
an  open  wound. 

The  Canon  City  meeting  was  set  down  for  the 
night  following  the  conversation  just  recorded,  and 
Tarvin  set  foot  on  the  shaky  dry-goods-box  platform 
at  the  roller  skating-rink  that  night  with  a  raging 
young  intention  to  make  it  understood  that  he  was 
still  here,  if  he  was  in  love. 

Sheriff  had  the  opening,  and  Tarvin  sat  in  the 
background  dangling  a  long,  restless  leg  from  one 
knee.  The  patchily  illumined  huddle  of  auditors 
below  him  looked  up  at  a  nervous,  bony,  loose-hung 
man,  with  a  kind,  clever,  aggressive  eye,  and  a  mas- 
terful chin.  His  nose  was  prominent,  and  he  had 
the  furrowed  forehead  and  the  hair  thinned  about 
the  temples  which  come  to  young  men  in  the  West. 
The  alert,  acute  glance  which  went  roving  about 
the  hall,  measuring  the  audience  to  which  he  was 
to  speak,  had  the  look  of  sufficiency  to  the  next 
need,  whatever  it  might  be,  which,  perhaps,  more 
than  anything  else,  commends  men  to  other  men 


24  THE  NAULAHKA. 

beyond  the  Mississippi.  He  was  dressed  in  the 
short  sack-coat  which  is  good  enough  for  most  west- 
ern public  functions ;  but  he  had  left  at  Topaz  the 
flannel  of  every-day  wear,  and  was  clad  in  the  white 
linen  of  civilization. 

He  was  wondering,  as  he  listened  to  Sheriff,  how 
a  father  could  have  the  heart  to  get  off  false  views 
on  silver  and  the  tariff  to  this  crowd  while  his 
daughter  was  hatching  that  ghastly  business  at 
home.  The  true  views  were  so  much  mixed  up  in 
his  own  mind  with  Kate,  that  when  he  himself  rose 
at  last  to  answer  Sheriff,  he  found  it  hard  not  to 
ask  how  the  deuce  a  man  expected  an  intelligent 
mass-meeting  to  accept  the  political  economy  he  was 
trying  to  apply  to  the  government  of  a  State,  when 
he  couldn't  so  much  as  run  his  own  family?  Why 
in  the  world  didn't  he  stop  his  daughter  from 
making  such  a  hash  of  her  life  ?  —  that  was  what  he 
wanted  to  know.  What  were  fathers  for?  He 
reserved  these  apt  remarks,  and  launched  instead 
upon  a  flood  of  figures,  facts,  and  arguments. 

Tarvin  had  precisely  the  gift  by  which  the  stump 
orator  coils  himself  into  the  heart  of  the  stump 
auditor:  he  upbraided,  he  arraigned;  he  pleaded, 
insisted,  denounced;  he  raised  his  lean,  long  arms, 
and  called  the  gods  and  the  statistics  and  the  Repub- 
lican party  to  witness,  and,  when  he  could  make 
a  point  that  way,  he  did  not  scorn  to  tell  a  story. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  25 

"Why,"  he  would  cry  defiantly  in  that  colloquial 
shout  which  the  political  orator  uses  for  his  anec- 
dotes, "  that  is  like  a  man  I  used  to  know  back  in 
Wisconsin,  who  —  "  It  wasn't  very  much  like  the 
man  in  Wisconsin,  and  Tarvin  had  never  been  in 
Wisconsin,  and  didn't  know  the  man;  but  it  was 
a  good  story,  and  when  the  crowd  howled  with 
delight  Sheriff  gathered  himself  together  a  little 
and  tried  to  smile,  and  that  was  what  Tarvin 
wanted. 

There  were  dissentient  voices,  and  the  jointness 
of  the  debate  was  sometimes  not  confined  to  the 
platform;  but  the  deep,  relishing  groans  which 
would  often  follow  applause  or  laughter  acted  as 
a  spur  to  Tarvin,  who  had  joined  the  janitor  of  the 
rink  that  afternoon  in  mixing  the  dusky  brew  on 
the  table  before  him,  and  who  really  did  not  need 
a  spur.  Under  the  inspiration  of  the  mixture  in 
the  pitcher,  the  passionate  resolve  in  his  heart,  and 
the  groans  and  hisses,  he  melted  gradually  into  an 
ecstasy  of  conviction  which  surprised  even  himself, 
and  he  began  to  feel  at  last  that  he  had  his  au- 
dience under  his  hand.  Then  he  gripped  them, 
raised  them  aloft  like  a  conjurer,  patted  and  stroked 
them,  dropped  them  to  dreadful  depths,  snatched 
them  back,  to  show  that  he  could,  caught  them  to 
his  heart,  and  told  them  a  story.  And  with  that 
audience  hugged  to  his  breast  he  marched  victo- 


26  THE  NAULAHKA. 

riously  up  and  down  upon  the  prostrate  body  of  the 
Democratic  party,  chanting  its  requiem.  It  was  a 
great  time.  Everybody  rose  at  the  end  and  said  so 
loudly ;  they  stood  on  benches  and  shouted  it  with 
a  bellow  that  shook  the  building.  They  tossed 
their  caps  in  the  air,  and  danced  on  one  another, 
and  wanted  to  carry  Tarvin  around  the  hall  on 
their  shoulders. 

But  Tarvin,  with  a  choking  at  the  throat,  turned 
his  back  on  it  all,  and,  fighting  his  way  blindly 
through  the  crowd  which  had  gathered  on  the  plat- 
form, reached  the  dressing-room  behind  the  stage. 
He  shut  and  bolted  the  door  behind  him,  and  flung 
himself  into  a  chair,  mopping  his  forehead. 

"And  the  man  who  can  do  that,"  he  muttered, 
"can't  make  one  tiny  little  bit  of  a  girl  marry  him." 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  BAST.  27 


CHAPTER  III. 

Who  are  the  rulers  of  Ind  —  to  whom  shall  we  bow  the  knee  ? 
Make  thy  peace  with  the  women,  and  men  shall  make  thee  L.  G.* 

Maxims  of  Hafiz. 

IT  was  an  opinion  not  concealed  in  Cafion  City 
the  next  morning  that  Tarvin  had  wiped  up  the  floor 
with  his  adversary;  and  it  was  at  least  definitely 
on  record,  as  a  result  of  Tarvin's  speech,  that  when 
Sheriff  rose  half-heartedly  to  make  the  rejoinder  set 
down  for  him  on  the  program,  he  had  been  howled 
back  into  his  seat  by  a  united  public  opinion.  But 
Sheriff  met  Tarvin  at  the  railway-station  where  they 
were  both  to  take  the  train  for  Topaz  with  a  fair 
imitation  of  a  nod  and  smile,  and  certainly  showed 
no  inclination  to  avoid  him  on  the  journey  up.  If 
Tarvin  had  really  done  Kate's  father  the  office 
attributed  to  him  by  the  voice  of  Canon  City,  Sheriff 
did  not  seem  to  be  greatly  disturbed  by  the  fact. 
But  Tarvin  reflected  that  Sheriff  had  balancing 
grounds  of  consolation  —  a  reflection  which  led  him 
to  make  the  further  one  that  he  had  made  a  fool 
of  himself.  He  had  indeed  had  the  satisfaction  of 

*  Copyright,  1892.  by  Mmcmillan  &  Co.  ; 


28  THE  NAULAHKA. 

explaining  publicly  to  the  rival  candidate  which 
was  the  better  man,  and  had  enjoyed  the  pleasure 
of  proving  to  his  constituents  that  he  was  still  a 
force  to  be  reckoned  with,  in  spite  of  the  mad  mis- 
sionary notion  which  had  built  a  nest  in  a  certain 
young  woman's  head.  But  how  did  that  bring  him 
nearer  Kate  ?  Had  it  not  rather,  so  far  as  her  father 
could  influence  the  matter,  put  him  farther  away  — 
as  far  as  it  had  brought  his  own  election  near.  He 
believed  he  would  be  elected  now.  But  to  what? 
Even  the  speakership  he  had  dangled  before  her 
did  not  seem  so  remote  in  the  light  of  last  night's 
occurrences.  But  the  only  speakership  that  Tarvin 
cared  to  be  elected  to  was  the  speakership  of  Kate's 
heart. 

He  feared  he  shouldn't  be  chosen  to  fill  that  high 
office  immediately,  and  as  he  glanced  at  the  stumpy, 
sturdy  form  standing  next  him  on  the  edge  of  the 
track,  he  knew  whom  he  had  to  thank.  She  would 
never  go  to  India  if  she  had  a  man  for  a  father  like 
some  men  he  knew.  But  a  smooth,  politic,  con- 
ciliating, selfish,  easy-going  rich  man  —  what  could 
you  expect?  Tarvin  could  have  forgiven  Sheriff's 
smoothness  if  it  had  been  backed  by  force.  But  he 
had  his  opinion  of  a  man  who  had  become  rich  by 
accident  in  a  town  like  Topaz. 

Sheriff  presented  the  spectacle,  intolerable  to 
Tarvin,  of  a  man  who  had  become  bewilderingly 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  29 

well-to-do  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  and  who 
now  wandered  vaguely  about  in  his  good  fortune, 
seeking  anxiously  to  avoid  giving  offence.  In  his 
politics  he  carried  this  far,  and  he  was  a  treasury 
of  delight  just  at  this  time  to  the  committees  of 
railroad  engineers'  balls,  Knight  Templars'  excur- 
sions, and  twilight  coteries,  and  to  the  organizers 
of  church  bazaars,  theatricals,  and  oyster  suppers, 
who  had  tickets  to  sell.  He  went  indiscriminately 
to  the  oyster  suppers  and  bazaars  of  all  denomina- 
tions in  Topaz,  and  made  Kate  and  her  mother  go 
with  him,  and  his  collection  of  Baptist  dolls,  Pres- 
byterian embroidery,  and  Roman  Catholic  sofa- 
pillows  and  spatter-work  filled  his  parlor  at  home. 
But  his  universal  good  nature  was  not  so  popular 
as  it  deserved  to  be.  The  twilight  coteries  took  his 
money  but  kept  their  opinion  of  him ;  and  Tarvin, 
as  the  opposing  candidate,  had  shown  what  he 
thought  of  his  rival's  system  of  politics  by  openly 
declining  to  buy  a  single  ticket.  This  feeble-foolish 
wish  to  please  everybody  was,  he  understood  very 
well,  at  the  root  of  Sheriff's  attitude  toward  his 
daughter's  mania.  Kitty  wanted  to  go  so  bad  he 
supposed  he'd  better  let  her  was  his  slouching  ver- 
sion of  the  situation  at  home.  He  declared  that  he 
had  opposed  the  idea  strongly  when  she  had  first 
suggested  it,  and  Tarvin  did  not  doubt  that  Sheriff, 
who  he  knew  was  fond  of  her,  had  really  done  what 


30  THE  NAULAHKA. 

he  could.  His  complaint  against  him  was  not  on 
the  score  of  disposition  but  of  capacity.  He  recog- 
nized, however,  that  this  was  finally  a  complaint, 
like  all  his  others,  against  Kate ;  for  it  was  Kate's 
will  which  made  all  pleadings  vain. 

When  the  train  for  Topaz  arrived  at  the  station, 
Sheriff  and  Tarvin  got  into  the  drawing-room  car 
together.  Tarvin  did  not  yearn  to  talk  to  Sheriff 
on  the  way  to  Topaz,  but  neither  did  he  wish  to 
seem  to  shirk  conversation.  Sheriff  offered  him  a 
cigar  in  the  smoking-room  of  the  Pullman,  and 
when  Dave  Lewis,  the  conductor,  came  through, 
Tarvin  hailed  him  as  an  old  friend,  and  made  him 
come  back  and  join  them  when  he  had  gone  his 
rounds.  Tarvin  liked  Lewis  in  the  way  that  he 
liked  the  thousand  other  casual  acquaintances  in  the 
State  with  whom  he  was  popular,  and  his  invitation 
was  not  altogether  a  device  for  avoiding  private  talk 
with  Sheriff.  The  conductor  told  them  that  he  had 
the  president  of  the  Three  C.'s  on  behind  in  a 
special  car,  with  his  party. 

"  No  ! "  exclaimed  Tarvin,  and  begged  him  to  in- 
troduce him  on  the  spot;  he  was  precisely  the  man 
he  wanted  to  see.  The  conductor  laughed,  and  said 
he  wasn't  a  director  of  the  road  —  not  himself;  but 
when  he  had  left  them  to  go  about  his  duties  he 
came  back,  after  a  time,  to  say  that  the  president  had 
been  asking  whom  he  could  recommend  at  Topaz 


A  STORY  OP  WEST  AND  EAST.  81 

as  a  fair-minded  and  public-spirited  man,  able  to 
discuss  in  a  reasonable  spirit  the  question  of  the 
Three  C.'s  coming  to  Topaz.  The  conductor  told 
him  that  he  had  two  such  gentlemen  on  board  his 
train  at  that  moment,  and  the  president  sent  word 
to  them  by  him  that  he  would  be  glad  to  have  a  little 
talk  with  them  if  they  would  come  back  to  his  car. 

For  a  year  the  directorate  of  the  Three  C.'s  had 
been  talking  of  running  their  line  through  Topaz, 
in  the  dispassionate  and  impartial  manner  of  direc- 
torates which  await  encouragement.  The  board  of 
trade  at  Topaz  had  promptly  met  and  voted  the 
encouragement.  It  took  the  shape  of  town  bonds 
and  gifts  of  land,  and  finally  of  an  undertaking  to 
purchase  shares  of  stock  in  the  road  itself,  at  an 
inflated  price.  This  was  handsome  even  for  a  board 
of  trade,  but  under  the  prick  of  town  ambition  and 
town  pride  Rustler  had  done  better.  Rustler  lay 
fifteen  miles  from  Topaz,  up  in  the  mountains,  and 
by  that  much  nearer  the  mines;  and  Topaz  recog- 
nized it  as  its  rival  in  other  matters  than  that  of  the 
Three  C.'s. 

The  two  towns  had  enjoyed  their  boom  at  about 
the  same  time ;  then  the  boom  had  left  Rustler  and 
had  betaken  itself  to  Topaz.  This  had  cost  Rustler 
a  number  of  citizens,  who  moved  to  the  more  pros- 
perous place.  Some  of  the  citizens  took  their  houses 
up  bodily,  loaded  them  on  a  flat  car,  and  sent  them 


32  THE  NAULAHKA. 

over  to  Topaz  as  freight,  to  the  desolation  of  the 
remaining  inhabitants  of  Rustler.  But  Topaz  now 
began  in  her  turn  to  feel  that  she  was  losing  her 
clutch.  A  house  or  two  had  been  moved  back.  It 
was  Rustler  this  time  which  was  gaining.  If  the 
railroad  went  there,  Topaz  was  lost.  If  Topaz 
secured  the  railroad,  the  town  was  made.  The  two 
towns  hated  each  other  as  such  towns  hate  in  the 
West  —  malignantly,  viciously,  joyously.  If  a  con- 
vulsion of  nature  had  obliterated  one  town,  the  other 
must  have  died  from  sheer  lack  of  interest  in  life. 
If  Topaz  could  have  killed  Rustler,  or  if  Rustler 
could  have  killed  Topaz,  by  more  enterprise,  push, 
and  go,  or  by  the  lightnings  of  the  local  press,  the 
surviving  town  would  have  organized  a  triumphal 
procession  and  a  dance  of  victory.  But  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  other  town  by  any  other  than  the  heaven- 
appointed  means  of  schemes,  rustle,  and  a  board  of 
trade  would  have  been  a  poignant  grief  to  the  sur- 
vivor. 

The  most  precious  possession  of  a  citizen  of  the 
West  is  his  town  pride.  It  is  the  flower  of  that 
pride  to  hate  the  rival  town.  Town  pride  cannot 
exist  without  town  jealousy,  and  it  was  therefore 
fortunate  that  Topaz  and  Rustler  lay  within  conven- 
ient hating  distance  of  each  other,  for  this  living 
belief  of  men  in  the  one  spot  of  all  the  great  western 
wilderness  on  which  they  have  chosen  to  pitch  their 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  BAST.  33 

tents  contains  within  itself  the  future  and  the 
promise  of  the  West. 

Tarvin  cherished  this  sentiment  as  a  religion.  It 
was  nearer  to  him  than  anything  in  the  world  but 
Kate,  and  sometimes  it  was  even  nearer  than  Kate. 
It  did  duty  with  him  for  all  the  higher  aspirations 
and  ideals  which  beckon  other  men.  He  wished  to 
succeed,  he  wished  to  make  a  figure,  but  his  best 
wish  for  himself  was  one  with  his  best  wish  for  the 
town.  He  could  not  succeed  if  the  town  failed ;  and 
if  the  town  prospered  he  must  prosper.  His  ambi- 
tion for  Topaz,  his  glory  in  Topaz,  were  a  patriotism 
—  passionate  and  personal.  Topaz  was  his  country ; 
and  because  it  was  near  and  real,  because  he  could 
put  his  hand  on  it,  and,  above  all,  because  he  could 
buy  and  sell  pieces  of  it,  it  was  much  more  recog- 
nizably his  country  than  the  United  States  of 
America,  which  was  his  country  in  time  of  war. 

He  had  been  present  at  the  birth  of  Topaz.  He 
had  known  it  when  his  arms  could  almost  encircle 
it ;  he  had  watched  and  fondled  and  caressed  it ;  he 
had  pegged  down  his  heart  with  the  first  peg  of  the 
survey;  and  now  he  knew  what  was  good  for  it. 
It  wanted  the  Three  C.'s. 

The  conductor  presented  Tarvin  and  Sheriff  to 
the  president  when  he  had  led  them  back  to  his 
private  car,  and  the  president  made  them  both 
known  to  his  young  wife,  —  a  blonde  of  twenty-five, 


34  THE  NAULAUKA. 

consciously  pretty  and  conspicuously  bridal,  —  by 
whose  side  Tarvin  placed  himself  with  his  instant 
perception.  There  were  apartments  in  the  private 
car  before  and  beyond  the  drawing-room  into  which 
they  had  been  shown.  The  whole  was  a  miracle  of 
compactness  and  convenience;  the  decoration  was 
of  a  spacious  refinement.  In  the  drawing-room  was 
a  smother  of  plushes  in  hues  of  no  kindred,  a  flicker 
of  tortured  nickel-work,  and  a  flash  of  mirrors.  The 
studied  soberness  of  the  wood-work,  in  a  more 
modern  taste,  heightened  the  high  pitch  of  the  rest. 

The  president  of  the  embryo  Colorado  and  Cali- 
fornia Central  made  room  for  Sheriff  in  one  of  the 
movable  wicker  chairs  by  tilting  out  a  heap  of  illus- 
trated papers,  and  bent  two  beady  black  eyes  on  him 
from  under  a  pair  of  bushy  eyebrows.  His  own  bulk 
filled  and  overflowed  another  of  the  frail  chairs.  He 
had  the  mottled  cheeks  and  the  flaccid  fullness  of 
chin  of  a  man  of  fifty  who  has  lived  too  well.  He 
listened  to  the  animated  representations  which 
Sheriff  at  once  began  making  him  with  an  irre- 
sponsive, sullen  face,  while  Tarvin  engaged  Mrs. 
Mutrie  in  a  conversation  which  did  not  imply  the 
existence  of  railways.  He  knew  all  about  the  mar- 
riage of  the  president  of  the  Three  C.  's,  and  he  found 
her  very  willing  to  let  him  use  his  knowledge  flat- 
teringly. He  made  her  his  compliments:  he  be- 
guiled her  into  telling  him  about  her  wedding 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  85 

journey.  They  were  just  at  the  end  of  it ;  they  were 
to  settle  in  Denver.  She  wondered  how  she  should 
like  it.  Tarvin  told  her  how  she  would  like  it.  He 
guaranteed  Denver ;  he  gilded  and  graced  it  for  her ; 
he  made  it  the  city  of  a  dream,  and  peopled  it  out 
of  an  Eastern  fairy  tale.  Then  he  praised  the  stores 
and  the  theatres.  He  said  they  beat  New  York,  but 
she  ought  to  see  their  theatre  at  Topaz.  He  hoped 
they  meant  to  stay  over  a  day  or  two  at  Topaz. 

Tarvin  would  not  praise  Topaz  crudely,  as  he 
praised  Denver.  He  contrived  to  intimate  its 
unique  charm,  and  when  he  had  managed  to  make 
her  see  it  in  fancy  as  the  prettiest,  and  finest,  and 
most  prosperous  town  in  the  West,  he  left  the  sub- 
ject. But  most  of  their  subjects  were  more  personal, 
and  while  he  discussed  them  with  her  he  pushed  out 
experimentally  in  one  direction  and  another,  first  for 
a  chord  of  sympathy,  then  for  her  weak  point.  He 
wanted  to  know  how  she  could  be  reached.  That 
was  the  way  to  reach  the  president.  He  had  per- 
ceived it  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  car.  He  knew 
her  history,  and  had  even  known  her  father,  who 
had  once  kept  the  hotel  where  he  stayed  when  he 
went  to  Omaha.  He  asked  her  about  the  old  house, 
and  the  changes  of  proprietorship  since  he  had  been 
there.  Who  had  it  now  ?  He  hoped  they  had  kept 
the  head  waiter.  And  the  cook?  It  made  his 
mouth  water  to  think  of  that  cook.  She  laughed 


36  THE  NAULAHKA. 

with  instant  sociability.  Her  childhood  had  been 
passed  about  the  hotel.  She  had  played  in  the  halls 
and  corridors,  drummed  on  the  parlor  piano,  and 
consumed  candy  in  the  office.  She  knew  that  cook 
—  knew  him  personally.  He  had  given  her  custards 
to  take  to  bed  with  her.  Oh,  yes,  he  was  still  there. 

There  was  an  infectious  quality  in  Tarvin's  open 
and  friendly  manner,  in  his  willingness  to  be 
amused,  and  in  his  lively  willingness  to  contribute 
to  the  current  stock  of  amusement,  and  there  was 
something  endearing  in  his  hearty,  manly  way,  his 
confident,  joyous  air,  his  manner  of  taking  life 
strongly,  and  richly,  and  happily.  He  had  an  im- 
partial kindness  for  the  human  species.  He  was 
own  cousin  to  the  race,  and  own  brother  to  the 
members  of  it  he  knew,  when  they  would  let  him 
be. 

He  and  Mrs.  Mutrie  were  shortly  on  beautiful 
terms,  and  she  made  him  come  back  with  her  to 
the  bow-window  at  the  end  of  the  car,  and  point 
out  the  show  sights  of  the  Grand  Cafion  of  the 
Arkansas  to  her.  Theirs  was  the  rearmost  carriage, 
and  they  looked  back  through  the  polished  sweep 
of  glass  in  which  the  president's  car  terminated, 
at  the  twisting  streak  of  the  receding  track,  and 
the  awful  walls  of  towering  rock  between  which 
it  found  its  way.  They  stooped  to  the  floor  to  catch 
sight  of  the  massy  heights  that  hung  above  them, 


A  STOEY  OP   WEST   AND   EAST.  37 

and  peered  back  at  the  soaring  chaos  of  rock  which, 
having  opened  to  let  them  through,  closed  again 
immitigably  as  they  left  it  behind.  The  train  went 
racketing  profanely  through  the  tumbled  beauty 
of  this  primeval  world,  miraculously  keeping  a 
foothold  on  the  knife-edge  of  space  won  for  it  at 
the  bottom  of  the  canon  from  the  river  on  one  side 
and  from  the  rock  on  the  other.  Mrs.  Mutrie  would 
sometimes  lose  her  balance  as  the  train  swept  them 
around  the  ceaseless  curves,  and  only  saved  herself 
by  snatching  at  Tarvin.  It  ended  in  his  making 
her  take  his  arm,  and  then  they  stood  and  rocked 
together  with  the  motion  of  the  train,  Tarvin 
steadying  their  position  with  outstretched  legs, 
while  they  gazed  up  at  the  monster  spires  and 
sovereign  hills  of  stone  wavering  and  dizzying  over 
their  heads. 

Mrs.  Mutrie  gave  frequent  utterance  to  little 
exclamations  of  wonder  and  applause,  which  began 
by  being  the  appropriate  feminine  response  to  great 
expressions  of  nature,  and  ended  in  an  awed  mur- 
mur. Her  light  nature  was  controlled  and  subdued 
by  the  spectacle  as  it  might  have  been  silenced 
by  the  presence  of  death;  she  used  her  little  arts 
and  coquetries  on  Tarvin  mechanically  and  half- 
heartedly until  they  were  finally  out  of  the  caflon, 
when  she  gave  a  gasp  of  relief,  and,  taking  petulant^ 
possession  of  him,  made  him  return  with  her  to 


38  THE  NAULAHKA. 

the  chairs  they  had  left  in  the  drawing-room. 
Sheriff  was  still  pouring  the  story  of  the  advantages 
of  Topaz  into  the  unattending  ear  of  the  president, 
whose  eyes  were  on  the  window-pane.  Mutrie 
received  her  pat  on  the  back  and  her  whispered 
confidence  with  the  air  of  an  embarrassed  ogre. 
She  flounced  into  her  former  seat,  and  commanded 
Tarvin  to  amuse  her;  and  Tarvin  willingly  told 
her  of  a  prospecting  expedition  he  had  once  made 
into  the  country  above  the  canon.  He  hadn't  found 
what  he  was  looking  for,  which  was  silver,  but  he 
had  found  some  rather  uncommon  amethysts. 

"Oh,  you  don't  mean  it!  You  delightful  man! 
Amethysts!  Real  live  ones?  I  didn't  know  they 
found  amethysts  in  Colorado." 

A  singular  light  kindled  in  her  eyes,  a  light  of 
passion  and  longing.  Tarvin  fastened  on  the  look 
instantly.  Was  that  her  weak  point  ?  If  it  was  — 
He  was  full  of  learning  about  precious  stones. 
Were  they  not  part  of  the  natural  resources  of  the 
country  about  Topaz?  He  could  talk  precious 
stones  with  her  until  the  cows  came  home.  But 
would  that  bring  the  Three  C.'s  to  Topaz?  A  wild 
notion  of  working  complimentary  bridal  resolutions 
and  an  appropriation  for  a  diamond  tiara  through 
the  board  of  trade  danced  through  his  head,  and 
was  dismissed.  No  public  offerings  of  that  kind 
would  help  Topaz.  This  was  a  case  for  private 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  BAST.  39 

diplomacy,  for  subtle  and  laborious  delicacies,  for 
quiet  and  friendly  manipulation,  for  the  tact  of 
finger-tips,  —  a  touch  here,  a  touch  there,  and  then 
a  grip,  —  a  case,  in  fine,  for  Nicholas  Tarvin,  and 
for  no  one  else  on  top  of  earth.  He  saw  himself 
bringing  the  Three  C.'s  splendidly,  royally,  unex- 
pectedly into  Topaz,  and  fixing  it  there  by  that 
same  Tarvin's  unaided  strength;  he  saw  himself 
the  founder  of  the  future  of  the  town  he  loved. 
He  saw  Rustler  in  the  dust,  and  the  owner  of  a 
certain  twenty-acre  plot  a  millionaire. 

His  fancy  dwelt  affectionately  for  a  moment  on 
the  twenty-acre  plot;  the  money  with  which  he 
had  bought  it  had  not  oome  easily,  and  business 
in  the  last  analysis  was  always  business.  But  the 
plot,  and  his  plan  of  selling  a  portion  of  it  to  the 
Three  C.'s  for  a  round-house,  when  the  railway 
came,  and  disposing  of  the  rest  as  town  lots  by  the 
front  foot,  were  minor  chords  in  the  larger  harmony. 
His  dream  was  of  Topaz.  If  promoters,  in  accord 
with  the  high  plan  of  providence,  usually  came  in 
on  the  ground  floor  when  their  plans  went  right, 
that  was  a  fact  strictly  by  the  way. 

He  noticed  now,  as  he  glanced  at  Mrs.  Mutrie's 
hands,  that  she  wore  unusual  rings.  They  were 
not  numerous,  but  the  stones  were  superb.  He 
ventured  to  admire  the  huge  solitaire  she  wore 
on  her  left  hand,  and,  as  they  fell  into  a  talk  about 


40  THE  NAULAHKA. 

jewels,  she  drew  it  off  to  let  him  see  it.  She  said 
the  diamond  had  a  history.  Her  father  had  bought 
it  from  an  actor,  a  tragedian  who  had  met  bad 
business  at  Omaha,  after  playing  to  empty  houses 
at  Denver,  Topeka,  Kansas  City,  and  St.  Jo.  The 
money  had  paid  the  fares  of  the  company  home  to 
New  York,  a  fact  which  connected  the  stone  with 
the  only  real  good  it  had  ever  done  its  various 
owners.  The  tragedian  had  won  it  from  a  gambler 
who  had  killed  his  man  in  a  quarrel  over  it;  the 
man  who  had  died  for  it  had  bought  it  at  a  low 
price  from  the  absconding  clerk  of  a  diamond 
merchant. 

"It  ought  to  have  been  smuggled  out  of  the 
mines  by  the  man  who  found  it  at  Kimberly,  or 
somewhere,  and  sold  to  an  I.  D.  B.,"  she  said, 
"to  make  the  story  complete.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Mr.  Tarvin?" 

She  asked  all  her  questions  with  an  arch  of  the 
eyebrow,  and  an  engaging  smile  which  required 
the  affirmative  readily  furnished  by  Tarvin.  He 
would  have  assented  to  an  hypothesis  denying  virtue 
to  the  discoveries  of  Galileo  and  Newton  if  Mrs. 
Mutrie  had  broached  it  just  then.  He  sat  tense 
and  rigid,  full  of  his  notion,  watching,  waiting, 
like  a  dog  on  the  scent. 

"I  look  into  it  sometimes  to  see  if  I  can't  find 
a  picture  of  the  crimes  it  has  seen,"  she  said. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  41 

"They're  so  nice  and  shivery,  don't  you  think  so, 
Mr.  Tarvin,  particularly  the  murder?  But  what  I 
like  best  about  it  is  the  stone  itself.  It  is  a  beauty, 
isn't  it?  Pa  used  to  say  it  was  the  handsomest 
he'd  ever  seen,  and  in  a  hotel  you  see  lots  of  good 
diamonds,  you  know."  She  gazed  a  moment  affec- 
tionately into  the  liquid  depths  of  the  brilliant. 
"Oh,  there's  nothing  like  a  beautiful  stone  —  noth- 
ing! "she  breathed.  Her  eyes  kindled.  He  heard 
for  the  first  time  in  her  voice  the  ring  of  absolute 
sincerity  and  unconsciousness.  "  I  could  look  at 
a  perfect  jewel  forever,  and  I  don't  much  care  what 
it  is,  so  it  is  perfect.  Pa  used  to  know  how  I 
loved  stones,  and  he  was  always  trading  them  with 
the  people  who  came  to  the  house.  Drummers  are 
great  fellows  for  jewelry,  you  know,  but  they  don't 
always  know  a  good  stone  from  a  bad  one.  Pa 
used  to  make  some  good  trades,"  she  said,  pursing 
her  pretty  lips  meditatively;  "but  he  would  never 
take  anything  but  the  best,  and  then  he  would 
trade  that,  if  he  cbuld,  for  something  better.  He 
would  always  give  two  or  three  stones  with  the 
least  flaw  in  them  for  one  real  good  one.  He 
knew  they  were  the  only  ones  I  cared  for.  Oh, 
I  do  love  them!  They're  better  than  folks.  They're 
always  there,  and  always  just  so  beautiful." 

"I  think  I  know  a  necklace  you'd  like,   if  you 
care  for  such  things,"  said  Tarvin,  quietly. 


42  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Do  you?"  she  beamed.     "Oh,  where?" 

"A  long  way  from  here." 

"  Oh  —  Tiffany's  !  "  she  exclaimed  scornfully.  "  I 
know  you!"  she  added,  with  resumed  art  of  into- 
nation. 

"No;  further." 

"Where?" 

"India." 

She  stared  at  him  a  moment  interestedly.  "Tell 
me  what  it's  like,"  she  said.  Her  whole  attitude 
and  accent  were  changed  again.  There  was  plainly 
one  subject  on  which  she  could  be  serious.  "Is  it 
really  good?" 

"It's  the  best,"  said  Tarvin,  and  stopped. 

"Well!"  she  exclaimed.  "Don't  tantalize  me. 
What  is  it  made  of?" 

"Oh,  diamonds,  pearls,  rubies,  opals,  turquoises, 
amethysts,  sapphires  —  a  rope  of  them.  The  rubies 
are  as  big  as  your  fist;  the  diamonds  are  the  size 
of  hens'  eggs.  It's  worth  a  king's  ransom." 

She  caught  her  breath.  Then  after  a  long 
moment,  "Oh!"  she  sighed;  and  then,  "Oh!"  she 
murmured  again,  languorously,  wonderingly,  long- 
ingly. "And  where  is  it?"  she  asked  briskly,  of 
a  sudden. 

"Round  the  neck  of  an  idol  in  the  province  of 
Rajputana.  Do  you  want  it?"  he  asked  grimly. 

She  laughed.     "Yes,"  she  answered 


A   STORY  OF  WEST   AND   EAST.  43 

"I'll  get  it  for  you,"  said  Tarvin,  simply. 

"  n?«,  you  will !  "  pouted  she. 

"I  will,"  repeated  Tarvin. 

She  threw  back  her  gay  blonde  head  and  laughed 
to  the  painted  Cupids  on  the  ceiling  of  the  car.  She 
always  threw  back  her  head  when  she  laughed;  it 
showed  her  throat. 


44  THE  NAULAHKA. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Tour  patience,  Sirs ;  the  Devil  took  me  up 

To  the  burned  mountain  over  Sicily 

(Fit  place  for  me),  and  there  I  saw  my  Earth  — 

(Not  all  Earth's  splendor,  'twas  beyond  my  need) 

And  that  one  spot  I  love,  —  all  Earth  to  me 

And  her  I  love,  my  Heaven.     What  said  I  ? 

My  Love  was  safe  from  all  the  powers  of  Hell  — 

For  you,  e'en  you,  acquit  her  of  my  guilt  — 

But  Sula,  nestling  by  our  sail- specked  sea, 

My  city,  child  of  mine,  my  heart,  my  home, 

Mine  and  my  pride  —  evil  might  visit  there  ! 

It  was  for  Sula  and  her  naked  ports, 

Prey  to  the  galleys  of  the  Algerine, 

Our  city  Sula,  that  I  drove  my  price  — 

For  love  of  Sula  and  for  love  of  her. 

The  twain  were  woven,  gold  on  sackcloth,  twined 

Fast  any  sundering  —  till  God  shall  judge 

The  evil  and  the  good.* 

The  Grand-Master's  Defence. 

THE  president  engaged  rooms  at  the  hotel  beside 
the  railroad  track  at  Topaz,  and  stayed  over  the 
next  day.  Tarvin  and  Sheriff  took  possession  of 
him,  and  showed  him  the  town  and  what  they 
called  its  "natural  resources."  Tarvin  caused  the 
president  to  hold  rein  when  he  had  ridden  with 
him  to  a  point  outside  the  town,  and  discoursed, 
in  the  midst  of  the  open  plain  and  in  the  face  of 

*  Copyright,  1802,  by  Macmillu  &  Co. 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  45 

the  snow-capped  mountains,  on  the  reasonableness 
and  necessity  of  making  Topaz  the  end  of  a  division 
for  the  new  railroad,  and  putting  the  division 
superintendent,  the  workshops,  and  the  roundhouse 
here. 

In  his  heart  he  knew  the  president  to  be  absolutely 
opposed  to  bringing  the  railroad  to  Topaz  at  all; 
but  he  preferred  to  assume  the  minor  point.  It 
was  much  easier,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  to  show  that 
Topaz  ought  to  be  made  a  junction,  and  the  end 
of  a  division,  than  it  was  to  show  that  it  ought  to 
be  a  station  on  the  Three  C.'s.  If  it  was  any- 
thing, it  would  have  to  be  a  junction ;  the  difficulty 
was  to  prove  that  it  ought  to  be  anything. 

Tarvin  knew  the  whole  Topaz  situation  forward 
and  back,  as  he  might  have  known  the  multipli- 
cation table.  He  was  not  president  of  the  board 
of  trade  and  the  head  of  a  land  and  improvement 
company,  organized  with  a  capital  of  a  million  on 
a  cash  basis  of  $2000,  for  nothing.  Tarvin's 
company  included  all  the  solid  men  of  the  town; 
it  owned  the  open  plain  from  Topaz  to  the  foothills, 
and  had  laid  it  out  in  streets,  avenues,  and  public 
parks.  One  could  see  the  whole  thing  on  a  map 
hung  in  the  company's  office  on  Connecticut 
Avenue,  which  was  furnished  in  oak,  floored  with 
mosaic,  carpeted  with  Turkish  rugs,  and  draped 
with  silk.  There  one  could  buy  town  lots  at  any 


46  THE   NAULAHKA. 

point  within  two  miles  of  the  town ;  there,  in  fact, 
Tarvin  had  some  town  lots  to  sell.  The  habit  of 
having  them  to  sell  had  taught  him  the  worst  and 
the  best  that  could  be  said  about  the  place ;  and  he 
knew  to  an  exactitude  all  that  he  could  make  a- 
given  man  believe  about  it. 

He  was  aware,  for  example,  that  Rustler  not 
only  had  richer  mines  in  its  near  neighborhood  than 
Topaz,  but  that  it  tapped  a  mining  country  behind  i 
it  of  unexplored  and  fabulous  wealth ;  and  he  knew 
that  the  president  knew  it.  He  was  equally  familiar 
with  other  facts  —  as,  for  example,  that  the  mines 
about  Topaz  were  fairly  good,  though  nothing 
remarkable  in  a  region  of  great  mineral  wealth; 
and  that,  although  the  town  lay  in  a  wide  and 
well-irrigated  valley,  and  in  the  midst  of  an  excel- 
lent cattle  country,  these  were  limited  advantages, 
and  easily  matched  elsewhere.  In  other  words, 
the  natural  resources  of  Topaz  constituted  no  such 
claim  for  it  as  a  "great  railroad  centre"  as  he 
would  have  liked  any  one  to  suppose  who  heard 
him  talk. 

But  he  was  not  talking  to  himself.  His  private 
word  to  himself  was  that  Topaz  was  created  to  be 
a  railroad  town,  and  the  way  to  create  it  was  to 
make  it  a  railroad  town.  This  proposition,  which 
could  not  have  been  squared  to  any  system  of  logic, 
proceeded  on  the  soundest  system  of  reasoning  — 


A  8TOBY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  47 

as  thus:  Topaz  was  not  an  existence  at  all;  Topaz 
was  a  hope.  Very  well.  And  when  one  wished 
to  make  such  hopes  realities  in  the  West,  what 
did  one  do?  Why,  get  some  one  else  to  believe 
in  them,  of  course.  Topaz  was  valueless  without 
the  Three  C.'s.  Then  what  was  its  value  to  the 
Three  C.'s?  Obviously  the  value  that  the  Three 
C.'s  would  give  it. 

Tarvin's  pledge  to  the  president  amounted  to 
this,  that  if  he  would  give  them  a  chance,  they 
would  be  worthy  of  it;  and  he  contended  that,  in 
essence,  that  was  all  that  any  town  could  say.  The 
point  for  the  president  to  judge  was,  which  place 
would  be  most  likely  to  be  worthy  of  such  an 
opportunity,  Topaz  or  Rustler;  and  he  claimed 
there  could  be  no  question  about  that.  When  you 
came  to  size  it  up,  he  said,  it  was  the  character  of 
the  inhabitants  that  counted.  They  were  dead  at 
Rustler  —  dead  and  buried.  Everybody  knew  that; 
there  was  no  trade,  no  industry,  no  life,  no  energy, 
no  money  there.  And  look  at  Topaz  I  The  presi- 
dent could  see  the  character  of  her  citizens  at  a 
glance  as  he  walked  the  streets.  They  were  wide 
awake  down  here.  They  meant  business.  They 
believed  in  their  town,  and  they  were  ready  to 
put  their  money  on  her.  The  president  had  only 
to  say  what  he  expected  of  them.  And  then  he 
broached  to  him  his  plan  for  getting  one  of  the 


48  THE  NAULAHKA. 

Denver  smelters  to  establish  a  huge  branch  at 
Topaz;  he  said  that  he  had  an  agreement  with  one 
of  them  in  his  pocket,  conditioned  solely  on  the 
Three  C.'s  coming  their  way.  The  company 
couldn't  make  any  such  arrangement  with  Rustler; 
he  knew  that.  Rustler  hadn't  the  flux,  for  one 
thing.  The  smelter  people  had  come  up  from 
Denver  at  the  expense  of  Topaz,  and  had  proved 
Topaz's  allegation  that  Rustler  couldn't  find  a 
proper  flux  for  smelting  its  ore  nearer  to  her  own 
borders  than  fifteen  miles  —  in  other  words,  she 
couldn't  find  it  this  side  of  Topaz. 

Tarvin  went  on  to  say  that  what  Topaz  wanted 
was  an  outlet  for  her  products  to  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  and  the  Three  C.'s  was  the  road  to  furnish 
it.  The  president  had,  perhaps,  listened  to  such 
statements  before,  for  the  entire  and  crystalline 
impudence  of  this  drew  no  retort  from  his  stolidity. 
He  seemed  to  consider  it  as  he  considered  the 
other  representations  made  to  him,  without  hearing 
it.  A  railroad  president,  weighing  the  advantages 
of  rival  towns,  could  not  find  it  within  his  con- 
ception of  dignity  to  ask  which  of  the  natural 
products  of  Topaz  sought  relief  through  the  Gulf. 
But  if  Mutrie  could  have  asked  such  a  question, 
Tarvin  would  have  answered  unblushingly,  "Rust- 
ler's." He  implied  this  freely  in  the  suggestion 
which  he  made  immediately  in  the  form  of  a  con' 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  49 

cession.  Of  course,  he  said,  if  the  road  wanted  to 
tap  the  mineral  wealth  of  the  country  behind 
Rustler  jt  would  be  a  simple  matter  to  run  a  branch 
road  up  there,  and  bring  down  the  ore  to  be  smelted 
at  Topaz.  Rustler  had  a  value  to  the  road  as  a 
mining  centre;  he  didn't  pretend  to  dispute  that. 
But  a  mineral  road  would  bring  down  all  the  ore 
as  well  as  a  main  line,  make  the  same  traffic  for 
the  road,  and  satisfy  all  proper  claims  of  Rustler 
to  consideration,  while  leaving  the  junction  where 
it  belonged  by  virtue  of  natural  position. 

He  boldly  asked  the  president  how  he  expected 
to  get  up  steam  and  speed  for  the  climb  over  the 
Pass  if  he  made  Rustler  the  end  of  the  division, 
and  changed  engines  there.  The  place  was  already 
in  the  mountains;  as  a  practical  railroad-nian  the 
president  must  know  that  his  engines  could  get 
no  start  from  Rustler.  The  heavy  grade  by  which 
the  railroad  would  have  to  get  out  of  the  place, 
beginning  in  the  town  itself,  prohibited  the  idea 
of  making  it  the  end  of  a  division.  If  his  engines, 
by  good  luck,  weren't  stalled  on  the  grade,  what 
did  he  think  of  the  annual  expense  involved  in 
driving  heavy  trains  daily  at  a  high  mountain  from 
the  vantage-ground  of  a  steep  slope?  What  the 
Three  C.'s  wanted  for  the  end  of  their  division 
and  their  last  stop  before  the  climb  over  the  Pass 
was  a  place  like  Topaz,  designed  for  them  by  nature^ 

E  . 


50  THE  NAULAHKA. 

built  in  the  centre  of  a  plain,  which  the  railroad 
could  traverse  at  a  level  for  five  miles  before  attack- 
ing the  hills. 

This  point  Tarvin  made  with  the  fervor  and 
relief  born  of  dealing  with  one  solid  and  irrefragable 
fact.  It  was  really  his  best  argument,  and  he  saw 
that  it  had  reached  the  president  as  the  latter  took 
up  his  reins  silently  and  led  the  way  back  to  town. 
But  another  glance  at  Mutrie's  face  told  him  that 
he  had  failed  hopelessly  in  his  main  contention. 
The  certainty  of  this  would  have  been  heart-break- 
ing if  he  had  not  expected  to  fail.  Success  lay 
elsewhere ;  but  before  trying  that  he  had  determined 
to  use  every  other  means. 

Tarvin 's  eye  rested  lovingly  on  his  town  as  they 
turned  their  horses  again  toward  the  cluster  of 
dwellings  scattered  irregularly  in  the  midst  of  -the 
wide  valley.  She  might  be  sure  that  he  would  see 
her  through. 

Of  course  the  Topaz  of  his  affections  melted  in 
and  out  of  the  Topaz  of  fact  by  shadings  and 
subtleties  which  no  measurement  could  record. 
The  relation  of  the  real  Topaz  to  Tarvin 's  Topaz, 
or  to  the  Topaz  of  any  good  citizen  of  the  place, 
was  a  matter  which  no  friendly  observer  could  wish 
to  press.  In  Tarvin's  own  case  it  was  impossible 
to  say  where  actual  belief  stopped  and  willingness 
to  believe  went  on.  What  he  knew  was  that  he 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  51 

did  believe ;  and  with  him  the  best  possible  reason 
for  faith  in  Topaz  would  have  been  that  it  needed 
to  be  believed  in  hard.  The  need  would  only  have 
been  another  reason  for  liking  it. 

To  the  ordered  Eastern  eye  the  city  would  have 
seemed  a  raw,  untidy,  lonely  collection  of  ragged 
wooden  buildings  sprawling  over  a  level  plain. 
But  this  was  only  another  proof  that  one  can  see 
only  what  one  brings  to  the  seeing.  It  was  not  so 
that  Tarvin  saw  it ;  and  he  would  not  have  thanked 
the  Easterner  who  should  have  taken  refuge  in 
praise  of  his  snow-whitened  hills,  walling  the 
valley  in  a  monstrous  circle.  The  Easterner  might 
keep  his  idea  that  Topaz  merely  blotted  a  beautiful 
picture;  to  Tarvin  the  picture  was  Topaz's  scenery, 
and  the  scenery  only  an  incident  of  Topaz.  It 
was  one  of  her  natural  advantages  —  her  own,  like 
her  climate,  her  altitude,  and  her  board  of  trade. 

He  named  the  big  mountains  to  the  president  as 
they  rode;  he  showed  him  where  their  big  irrigat- 
ing-ditch  led  the  water  down  out  of  the  heights, 
and  where  it  was  brought  along  under  the  shadow 
of  the  foothills  before  it  started  across  the  plain 
toward  Topaz ;  he  told  him  the  number  of  patients 
in  their  hospital,  decently  subduing  his  sense  of 
their  numerousness,  as  a  testimony  to  the  prosperity 
of  the  town;  and  as  they  rode  into  the  streets  he 
pointed  out  the  opera-house,  the  post-office,  the 


62  THE  NAULAHKA. 

public-school,  and  the  court-house,  with  the  modesty 
a  mother  summons  who  shows  her  first-born. 

It  was  at  least  as  much  to  avoid  thinking  as  to 
exploit  the  merits  of  Topaz  that  he  spared  the 
president  nothing.  Through  all  his  advocacy 
another  voice  had  made  itself  heard,  and  now,  in 
the  sense  of  momentary  failure,  the  bitterness  of 
another  failure  caught  him  with  a  fresh  twinge; 
for  since  his  return  he  had  seen  Kate,  and  knew 
that  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  would  prevent  her 
from  starting  for  India  within  three  days.  In 
contempt  of  the  man  who  was  making  this  possible, 
and  in  anger  and  desperation,  he  had  spoken  at 
last  directly  to  Sheriff,  appealing  to  him  by  all 
he  held  most  dear  to  stop  this  wickedness.  But 
there  are  limp  rags  which  no  buckram  can  stiffen; 
and  Sheriff,  willing  as  he  was  to  oblige,  could  not 
take  strength  into  his  fibre  from  the  outside,  though 
Tarvin  offered  him  all  of  his.  His  talk  with  Kate, 
supplemented  by  this  barren  interview  with  her 
father,  had  given  him  a  sickening  sense  of  power- 
lessness  from  which  nothing  but  a  large  success 
in  another  direction  could  rescue  him.  He  thirsted 
for  success,  and  it  had  done  him  good  to  attack 
the  president,  even  with  the  foreknowledge  that 
he  must  fail  with  him. 

He  could  forget  Kate's  existence  while  he  fought 
for  Topaz,  but  he  remembered  it  with  a  pang  aa 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND   EAST.  53 

he  parted  from  Mutrie.  He  had  her  promise  to 
make  one  of  the  party  he  was  taking  to  the  Hot 
Springs  that  afternoon;  if  it  had  not  been  for  that 
he  could  almost  have  found  it  in  his  heart  to  let 
Topaz  take  care  of  herself  for  the  remainder  of  the 
president's  stay.  As  it  was,  he  looked  forward  to 
the  visit  to  the  Springs  as  a  last  opening  to  hope. 
He  meant  to  make  a  final  appeal ;  he  meant  to  have 
it  out  with  Kate,  for  he  could  not  believe  in  defeat, 
and  he  could  not  think  that  she  would  go. 

The  excursion  to  the  Hot  Springs  was  designed 
to  show  the  president  and  Mrs.  Mutrie  what  a 
future  Topaz  must  have  as  a  winter  resort,  if  all 
other  advantages  failed  her;  and  they  had  agreed 
to  go  with  the  party  which  Tarvin  had  hastily  got 
together.  With  a  view  to  a  little  quiet  talk  with 
Kate,  he  had  invited  three  men  besides  Sheriff  — 
Maxim,  the  post-master;  Heckler,  the  editor  of 
the  "  Topaz  Telegram  "  (both  his  colleagues  on  the 
board  of  trade);  and  a  pleasant  young  Englishman 
named  Carmathan.  He  expected  them  to  do  some 
of  the  talking  to  the  president,  and  to  give  him 
half  an  hour  with  Kate,  without  detriment  to 
Mutrie's  impressions  of  Topaz.  It  had  occurred  to 
him  that  the  president  might  be  ready  by  this 
time  for  a  fresh  view  of  the  town,  and  Heckler 
was  the  man  to  give  it  to  him. 

Carmathan  had  come  to  Topaz  two  years  before 


54  THE  NAULAHKA. 

in  his  capacity  of  colonizing  younger  son,  to  engage 
in  the  cattle  business,  equipped  with  a  riding-crop, 
top-boots,  and  $2000  in  money.  He  had  lost  the 
money;  but  he  knew  now  that  riding-crops  were 
not  used  in  punching  cattle,  and  he  was  at  the 
moment  using  this  knowledge,  together  with  other 
information  gathered  on  the  same  subject,  in  the 
calling  of  cowboy  on  a  neighboring  range.  He 
was  getting  $30  a  month,  arid  was  accepting  his 
luck  with  the  philosophy  which  comes  to  the 
adoptive  as  well  as  to  the  native-born  citizens  of 
the  West.  Kate  liked  him  for  the  pride  and  pluck 
which  did  not  allow  him  the  easy  remedy  of  writing 
home,  and  for  other  things;  and  for  the  first  half 
of  their  ride  to  the  Hot  Springs  they  rode  side  by 
side,  while  Tarvin  made  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mutrie  look 
up  at  the  rocky  heights  between  which  they  began 
to  pass.  He  showed  them  the  mines  burrowing 
into  the  face  of  the  rock  far  aloft,  and  explained 
the  geological  formation  with  the  purely  practical 
learning  of  a  man  who  buys  and  sells  mines.  The 
road,  which  ran  alongside  the  track  of  the  railroad 
already  going  through  Topaz,  wandered  back  and 
forth  over  it  from  time  to  time,  as  Tarvin  said,  at 
the  exact  angle  which  the  Three  C.'s  would  be 
choosing  later.  Once  a  train  labored  past  them, 
tugging  up  the  heavy  grade  that  led  to  the  town. 
The  narrowing  gorge  was  the  first  closing  in  of 


A  STORY  OF  WEST   AND  EAST.  55 

the  hills,  which,  after  widening  again,  gathered  in 
the  great  cliffs  of  the  caflon  twenty  miles  below,  to 
face  each  other  across  the  chasm.  The  sweep  of 
pictured  rock  above  their  heads  lifted  itself  into 
strange,  gnarled  crags,  or  dipped  suddenly  and 
swam  on  high  in  straining  peaks ;  but  for  the  most 
part  it  was  sheer  wall  —  blue  and  brown  and 
purplish-red  umber,  ochre,  and  the  soft  hues 
between. 

Tarvin  dropped  back,  and  ranged  his  horse 
beside  Kate's.  Carmathan,  with  whom  he  was  in 
friendly  relation,  gave  place  to  him  instantly,  and 
rode  forward  to  join  the  others  in  advance. 

She  lifted  her  speaking  eyes  as  he  drew  rein 
beside  her,  and  begged  him  silently  to  save  them 
both  the  continuance  of  a  hopeless  contest;  but 
Tarvin 's  jaw  was  set,  and  he  would  not  have 
listened  to  an  angel's  voice. 

"I  tire  you  by  talking  of  this  thing,  Kate.  I 
know  it.  But  I've  got  to  talk  of  it.  I've  got  to 
save  you." 

"Don't  try  any  more,  Nick,"  she  answered  gently. 
"Please  don't.  It's  my  salvation  to  go.  It  is 
the  one  thing  I  want  to  do.  It  seems  to  me  some- 
times, when  I  think  of  it,  that  it  was  perhaps  the 
thing  I  was  sent  into  the  world  to  do.  We  are  all 
sent  into  the  world  to  do  something,  don't  you 
think  so,  Nick,  even  if  it's  ever  so  tiny  and  humble 


56  THE  NAULAHKA. 

and  no  account?  I've  got  to  do  it,  Nick.  Make 
it  easy  for  me." 

"I'll  be  — hammered  if  I  will!  I'll  make  it 
hard.  That's  what  I'm  here  for.  Every  one  else 
yields  to  that  vicious  little  will  of  yours.  Your 
father  and  mother  let  you  do  what  you  like.  They 
don't  begin  to  know  what  you  are  running  your 
precious  head  into.  I  can't  replace  it.  Can  you? 
That  makes  me  positive.  It  also  makes  me  ugly." 

Kate  laughed. 

"It  does  make  you  ugly,  Nick.  But  I  don't 
mind.  I  think  I  like  it  that  you  should  care.  If 
I  could  stay  at  home  for  any  one,  I'd  do  it  for  you. 
Believe  that,  won't  you?" 

"Oh,  I'll  believe,  and  thank  you  into  the  bar- 
gain. But  what  good  will  it  do  me?  I  don't 
want  belief.  I  want  you." 

"I  know,  Nick.  I  know.  But  India  wants  me 
more  —  or  not  me,  but  what  I  can  do,  and  what 
women  like  me  can  do.  There's  a  cry  from 
Macedonia,  'Come  over  and  help  us!'  While  I 
hear  that  cry  I  can  find  no  pleasure  in  any  other 
good.  I  could  be  your  wife,  Nick.  That's  easy. 
But  with  that  in  my  ears  I  should  be  in  torture 
every  moment." 

"That's  rough  on  me,"  suggested  Tarvin,  glanc- 
ing ruefully  at  the  cliffs  above  them. 

"Oh,  no.     It  has  nothing  to  do  with  you." 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  57 

"Yes,"  returned  he,  shutting  his  lips,  "that's 
just  it." 

She  could  not  help  smiling  a  little  again  at  his 
face. 

"I  will  never  marry  any  one  else,  if  it  helps 
you  any  to  know  that,  Nick,"  she  said,  with  a 
sudden  tenderness  in  her  voice. 

"But  you  won't  marry  me?" 

"No,"  she  said  quietly,  firmly,  simply. 

He  meditated  this  answer  a  moment  in  bitterness. 
They  were  riding  at  a  walk,  and  he  let  the  reins 
drop  on  his  pony's  neck  as  he  said,  "Oh,  well. 
Don't  matter  about  me.  It  isn't  all  selfishness, 
dear.  I  do  want  you  to  stay  for  my  own  sake,  I  want 
you  for  my  very  own,  I  want  you  always  beside 
me,  I  want  you  —  want  you;  but  it  isn't  for  that 
I  ask  you  to  stay.  It's  because  I  can't  think  of 
you  throwing  yourself  into  the  dangers  and  horrors 
of  that  life  alone,  unprotected,  a  girl.  I  can't 
think  of  it  and  sleep  nights.  I  daren't  think  of  it. 
The  thing's  monstrous.  It's  hideous.  It's  absurd. 
You  won't  do  it !  " 

"I  must  not  think  of  myself,"  she  answered  in 
a  shaken  voice.  "I  must  think  of  them" 

"But  I  must  think  of  you.  And  you  sha'n't 
bribe  me,  you  sha'n't  tempt  me,  to  think  of  any 
one  else.  You  take  it  all  too  hard.  Dearest  girl," 
he  entreated,  lowering  his  voice,  "  are  you  in  charge 


58  THE   NAULAHKA. 

of  the  misery  of  the  earth?  There  is  misery  else- 
where, too,  and  pain.  Can  you  stop  it?  You've 
got  to  live  with  the  sound  of  the  suffering  of 
millions  in  your  ears  all  your  life,  whatever  you 
do.  We're  all  in  for  that.  We  can't  get  away 
from  it.  We  pay  that  price  for  daring  to  be  happy 
for  one  little  second." 

"I  know,  I  know.  I'm  not  trying  to  save 
myself.  I'm  not  trying  to  stifle  the  sound." 

"No;  but  you  are  trying  to  stop  it,  and  you 
can't.  It's  like  trying  to  scoop  up  the  ocean  with 
a  dipper.  You  can't  do  it.  But  you  can  spoil 
your  life  in  trying;  and  if  you've  got  a  scheme  by 
which  you  can  come  back  and  have  a  spoiled  life 
over  again,  I  know  some  one  who  hasn't.  O  Kate, 
I  don't  ask  anything  for  myself, — or,  at  least,  I 
only  ask  everything,  —  but  do  think  of  that  a 
moment  sometimes  when  you  are  putting  your  arms 
around  the  earth,  and  trying  to  lift  it  up  in  your 
soft  little  hands  —  you  are  spoiling  more  lives  than 
your  own.  Great  Scott,  Kate,  if  you  are  looking 
for  some  misery  to  set  right,  you  needn't  go  off 
this  road.  Begin  on  me." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly.  "I  must  begin  where 
I  see  my  duty,  Nick.  I  don't  say  that  I  shall 
make  much  impression  on  the  dreadful  sum  of 
human  trouble,  and  I  don't  say  it  is  for  everybody 
to  do  what  I'm  going  to  try  to  do;  but  it's  right 


A  STORY  OF  WB6T  AND  EAST.  59 

for  me.  I  know  that,  and  that's  all  any  of  us  can 
know.  Oh,  to  be  sure  that  people  are  a  little  better 
—  if  only  a  little  better  —  because  you  have  lived," 
she  exclaimed,  the  look  of  exaltation  coming  into 
her  eyes;  "to  know  that  you  have  lessened  by  the 
slightest  bit  the  sorrow  and  suffering  that  must 
go  on  all  the  same,  would  be  good.  Even  you 
must  feel  that,  Nick,"  she  said,  gently  laying  her 
hand  on  his  arm  as  they  rode. 

Tarvin  compressed  his  lips.  "Oh,  yes;  I  feel 
it,"  he  said  desperately. 

"But  you  feel  something  else.     So  do  I." 

"Then  feel  it  more.  Feel  it  enough  to  trust 
yourself  to  me.  I'll  find  a  future  for  you.  You 
shall  bless  everybody  with  your  goodness.  Do  you 
think  I  should  like  you  without  it  ?  And  you  shall 
begin  by  blessing  me." 

"I  can't!    I  can't!"  she  cried  in  distress. 

"You  can't  do  anything  else.  You  must  come 
to  me  at  last.  Do  you  think  I  could  live  if  I  didn't 
think  that?  But  I  want  to  save  you  all  that  lies 
between.  I  don't  want  you  to  be  driven  into  my 
arms,  little  girl.  I  want  you  to  come  —  and  come 
now." 

For  answer  to  this  she  only  bowed  her  head  on 
the  sleeve  of  her  riding-habit,  and  began  to  cry 
softly.  Nick's  fingers  closed  on  the  hand  with 
which  she  nervously  clutched  the  pommel  of  her 
saddle. 


60  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"You  can't,  dear?" 

The  brown  head  was  shaken  vehemently.  Tarvin 
ground  his  teeth. 

"All  right;  don't  mind." 

He  took  her  yielding  hand  into  his,  speaking 
gently,  as  he  would  have  spoken  to  a  child  in 
distress.  In  the  silent  moment  that  lengthened 
between  them  Tarvin  gave  it  up  —  not  Kate,  not 
his  love,  not  his  changeless  resolve  to  have  her  for 
his  own,  but  just  the  question  of  her  going  to 
India.  She  could  go  if  she  liked.  There  would 
be  two  of  them. 

When  they  reached  the  Hot  Springs  he  took  an 
immediate  opportunity  to  engage  the  willing  Mrs. 
Mutrie  in  talk,  and  to  lead  her  aside,  while  Sheriff 
showed  the  president  the  water  steaming  out  of 
the  ground,  the  baths,  and  the  proposed  site  of  a 
giant  hotel.  Kate,  willing  to  hide  her  red  eyes 
from  Mrs.  Mutrie 's  sharp  gaze,  remained  with  her 
father. 

When  Tarvin  had  led  the  president's  wife  to  the 
side  of  the  stream  that  went  plunging  down  past 
the  Springs  to  find  a  tomb  at  last  in  the  cafion 
below,  he  stopped  short  in  the  shelter  of  a  clump 
of  cotton  woods. 

"Do  you  really  want  that  necklace?"  he  asked 
her  abruptly. 

She  laughed  again,   gurglingly,    amusedly,    this 


A  STOEY  OP  WEST  AND  EAST.  61 

time,  with  the  little  air  of  spectacle  which  she 
could  not  help  lending  to  all  she  did. 

"  Want  it  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Of  course  I  want  it. 
I  want  the  moon,  too." 

Tarvin  laid  a  silencing  hand  upon  her  arm. 

"You  shall  have  this,"  he  said  positively. 

She  ceased  laughing,  and  grew  almost  pale  at 
his  earnestness. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"It  would  please  you?  You  would  be  glad  of 
it?"  he  asked.  "What  would  you  do  to  get  it?" 

"Go  back  to  Omaha  on  my  hands  and  knees," 
she  answered  with  equal  earnestness.  "Crawl  to 
India." 

"  All  right, "  returned  Tarvin,  vigorously.  "  That 
settlos  it.  Listen!  I  want  the  Three  C.'s  to  come 
to  Topaz.  You  want  this.  Can  we  trade?" 

"But  you  can  never  —  " 

"No  matter;  I'll  attend  to  my  part.  Can  you 
do  yours?" 

"You  mean  —  "  she  began. 

"Yes,"  nodded  her  companion,  decisively;  "I  do. 
Can  you  fix  it?" 

Tarvin,  fiercely  repressed  and  controlled,  stood 
before  her  with  clenched  teeth,  and  hands  that 
drove  the  nails  into  his  palms,  awaiting  her  answer. 

She  tilted  her  fair  head  on  one  side  with  depreca- 
tion, and  regarded  him  out  of  the  vanishing  angle 


62  THE  NAULAHKA. 

• 

of  one  eye  provocatively,  with  a  lingering,  tantaliz- 
ing look  of  adequacy. 

"I  guess  what  I  say  to  Jim  goes,"  she  said  at 
last  with  a  dreamy  smile. 

"Then  it's  a  bargain?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

"Shake  hands  on  it." 

They  joined  hands.  For  a  moment  they  stood 
confronted,  penetrating  each  other's  eyes. 

"You'll  really  get  it  for  me?" 

"Yes." 

"You  won't  go  back  on  me?" 

-'No." 

He  pressed  her  hand  so  that  she  gave  a  little 
scream. 

"Ouch!     You  hurt." 

"All  right,"  he  said  hoarsely,  as  he  dropped  her 
hand.  "It's  a  trade.  I  start  for  India  to-morrow. ': 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  63 


CHAPTER  V. 

Now  it  is  not  good  for  the  Christian's  health  to  hustle  the  Aryan 

brown, 
For  the  Christian  riles  and  the  Aryan  smiles  and  he  weareth  the 

Christian  down ; 
And  the  end  of  the  fight  is  a  tombstone  white  with  the  name  of  the 

late  deceased, 
And  the  epitaph  drear  :    "A  fool  lies  here  who  tried  to  hustle  the 

East."  * 

Solo  from  Libretto  of  Naulahka. 

TARVIN  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  station  at 
Rawut  Junction  watching  the  dust  cloud  that 
followed  the  retreating  Bombay  mail.  When  it 
had  disappeared  the  heated  air  above  the  stone 
ballast  began  its  dance  again,  and  he  turned  blink- 
ing to  India. 

It  was  amazingly  simple  to  come  fourteen  thou- 
sand miles.  He  had  lain  still  in  a  ship  for  a  certain 
time,  and  then  had  transferred  himself  to  stretch  at 
full  length,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  on  the  leather- 
padded  bunk  of  the  train  which  had  brought  him 
from  Calcutta  to  Rawut  Junction.  The  journey 
was  long  only  as  it  kept  him  from  sight  of  Kate, 
and  kept  him  filled  with  thought  of  her.  But  was 

'Copyright,  1892,  by  M*cmillao  *Co, 


64  THE  NAULAHKA. 

this  what  he  had  come  for  —  the  yellow  desolation 
of  a  Rajputana  desert,  and  the  pinched-off  per- 
spective of  the  track?  Topaz  was  cosier  when 
they  had  got  the  church,  the  saloon,  the  school, 
and  three  houses  up;  the  loneliness  made  him 
shiver.  He  saw  that  they  did  not  mean  to  do  any 
more  of  it.  It  was  a  desolation  which  doubled 
desolateness,  because  it  was  left  for  done.  It  was 
final,  intended,  absolute.  The  grim  solidity  of 
the  cut-stone  station-house,  the  solid  masonry  of 
the  empty  platform,  the  mathematical  exactitude 
of  the  station  name-board  looked  for  no  future. 
No  new  railroad  could  help  Rawut  Junction.  It 
had  no  ambition.  It  belonged  to  the  Government. 
There  was  no  green  thing,  no  curved  line,  no 
promise  of  life  that  produces,  within  eyeshot  of 
Rawut  Junction.  The  mauve  railroad-creeper  on 
the  station  had  been  allowed  to  die  from  lack  of 
attention. 

Tarvin  was  saved  from  the  more  positive  pangs 
of  homesickness  by  a  little  healthy  human  rage. 
A  single  man,  fat,  brown,  clothed  in  white  gauze, 
and  wearing  a  black  velvet  cap  on  his  head,  stepped 
out  from  the  building.  This  station-master  and 
permanent  population  of  Rawut  Junction  accepted 
Tarvin  as  a  feature  of  the  landscape:  he  did  not 
look  at  him.  Tarvin  began  to  sympathize  with  the 
South  in  the  war  of  the  rebellion. 


A  STOKY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  65 

"When  does  the  next  train  leave  for  Rhatore?* 
he  asked. 

"There  is  no  train,"  returned  the  man,  pausing 
with  precise  deliberation  between  the  words.  He 
sent  his  speech  abroad  with  an  air  of  detachment, 
irresponsibly,  like  the  phonograph. 

"No  train?  Where's  your  time-table?  Where's 
your  railroad  guide?  Where's  your  Pathfinder?" 

"No  train  at  all  of  any  kind  whatever." 

"Then  what  the  devil  are  you  here  for?" 

"Sir,  I  am  the  station-master  of  this  station, 
and  it  is  prohibited  using  profane  language  to 
employees  of  this  company." 

"Oh,  are  you?  Is  it?  Well,  see  here,  my 
friend  —  you  station-master  of  the  steep-edge  of  the 
jumping-off-place,  if  you  want  to  save  your  life 
you  will  tell  me  how  I  get  to  Rhatore  —  quick!" 

The  man  was  silent. 

"Well,  what  do  I  do,  anyway?"  shouted  the 
West. 

"What  do  I  know?"  answered  the  East. 

Tarvin  stared  at  the  brown  being  in  white, 
beginning  at  his  patent-leather  shoes,  surmounted 
by  openwork  socks,  out  of  which  the  calf  of  his 
leg  bulged,  and  ending  with  the  velvet  smoking- 
cap  on  his  head.  The  passionless  regard  of  the 
Oriental,  borrowed  from  the  purple  hills  behind 
his  station,  made  him  wonder  for  one  profane 

V 


66  THE  NAULAHKA. 

faithless,  and  spiritless  moment  whether  Topaz  and 
Kate  were  worth  all  they  were  costing. 

"Ticket,  please,"  said  the  baboo. 

The  gloom  darkened.  This  thing  was  here  to 
take  tickets,  and  would  do  it  though  men  loved, 
and  fought,  and  despaired  and  died  at  his  feet. 

"See  here,"  cried  Tarvin,  "you  shiny-toed  fraud; 
you  agate-eyed  pillar  of  alabaster  — "  But  he  did 
not  go  on;  speech  failed  in  a  shout  of  rage  and 
despair.  The  desert  swallowed  all  impartially ;  and 
the  baboo,  turning  with  awful  quiet,  drifted  through 
the  door  of  the  station-house,  and  locked  it  behind 
him. 

Tarvin  whistled  persuasively  at  the  door  with 
uplifted  eyebrows,  jingling  an  American  quarter 
against  a  rupee  in  his  pocket.  The  window  of 
the  ticket-office  opened  a  little  way,  and  the  baboo 
showed  an  inch  of  impassive  face. 

"Speaking  now  in  offeshal  capacity,  your  honor 
can  getting  to  Rhatore  via  country  bullock-cart." 

"Find  me  the  bullock-cart,"  said  Tarvin. 

"Your  honor  granting  commission  on  transac- 
tion?" 

"Cert."  It  was  the  tone  that  conveyed  the  idea 
to  the  head  under  the  smoking-cap. 

The  window  was  dropped.  Afterward,  but  not 
too  immediately  afterward,  a  long-drawn  howl  made 
itself  heard  —  the  howl  of  a  weary  warlock  invoking 
a  dilatory  ghost- 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  67 

"O  Moti!     Motil     O-o-hl" 

"  Ah  there,  Moti  I "  murmured  Tarvin,  as  he 
vaulted  over  the  low  stone  wall,  gripsack  in  hand, 
and  stepped  out  through  the  ticket  wicket  into 
Rajputana.  His  habitual  gaiety  and  confidence 
had  returned  with  the  prospect  of  motion. 

Between  himself  and  a  purple  circle  of  hills  lay 
fifteen  miles  of  profitless,  rolling  ground,  jagged 
with  laterite  rocks,  and  studded  with  unthrifty 
trees  — all  given  up  to  drought  and  dust,  and  all 
colorless  as  the  sun-bleached  locks  of  a  child  of  the 
prairies.  Very  far  away  to  the  right  the  silver 
gleam  of  a  salt  lake  showed,  and  a  formless  blue 
haze  of  heavier  forest.  Sombre,  desolate,  oppres- 
sive, withering  under  a  brazen  sun,  it  smote  him 
with  its  likeness  to  his  own  prairies,  and  with  its 
homesick  unlikeness. 

Apparently  out  of  a  crack  in  the  earth — in  fact, 
as  he  presently  perceived,  out  of  a  spot  where  two 
waves  of  plain  folded  in  upon  each  other  and 
contained  a  village  —  came  a  pillar  of  dust,  the 
heart  of  which  was  a  bullock-cart.  The  distant 
whine  of  the  wheels  sharpened,  as  it  drew  near, 
to  the  full-bodied  shriek  that  Tarvin  knew  when 
they  pat  the  brakes  suddenly  on  a  freight  coming 
into  Topaz  on  the  down  grade.  But  this  was  in 
no  sense  a  freight.  The  wheels  were  sections  of 
tree  butts  —  square  for  the  most  part.  Four 


68  THE  NAULAHKA. 

unbarked  poles  bounded  the  corners  of  a  flat  body; 
the  sides  were  made  of  netted  rope  of  cocoanut 
fibre.  Two  bullocks,  a  little  larger  than  New- 
foundlands, smaller  than  Alderneys,  drew  a  vehicle 
which  might  have  contained  the  half  of  a  horse's 
load. 

The  cart  drew  up  at  the  station,  and  the  bullocks, 
after  contemplating  Tarvin  for  a  moment,  lay  down. 
Tarvin  seated  himself  on  his  gripsack,  rested  his 
shaggy  head  in  his  hands,  and  expended  himself 
in  mirth. 

"Sail  in,"  he  instructed  the  baboo;  "make  your 
bargain.  I'm  in  no  hurry." 

Then  began  a  scene  of  declamation  and  riot  to 
which  a  quarrel  in  a  Leadville  gambling  saloon 
was  a  poor  matter.  The  impassiveness  of  the 
station-master  deserted  him  like  a  wind-blown  gar- 
ment. He  harangued,  gesticulated,  and  cursed; 
and  the  driver,  naked  except  for  a  blue  loin-cloth, 
was  nothing  behind  him.  They  pointed  at  Tarvin; 
they  seemed  to  be  arguing  over  his  birth  and 
ancestry;  for  all  he  knew  they  were  appraising 
his  weight.  When  they  seemed  to  be  on  the  brink 
of  an  amicable  solution,  the  question  reopened 
itself,  and  they  went  back  to  the  beginning,  and 
reclassified  him  and  the  journey. 

Tarvin  applauded  both  parties,  sicking  one  on 
the  other  impartially  for  the  first  ten  minutes. 


A  STORY  OP   WEST  AND  EAST.  69 

Then  he  besought  them  to  stop,  and  when  they 
would  not  he  discovered  that  it  was  hot,  and  swore 
at  them. 

The  driver  had  for  the  moment  exhausted  himself 
when  the  baboo  turned  suddenly  on  Tarvin,  and, 
clutching  him  by  the  arm,  cried,  almost  shouting, 
"All  arrange,  sir!  all  arrange!  This  man  most 
uneducated  man,  sir.  You  giving  me  the  money, 
I  arrange  everything." 

Swift  as  thought,  the  driver  had  caught  his 
other  arm,  and  was  imploring  him  in  a  strange 
tongue  not  to  listen  to  his  opponent.  As  Tarvin 
stepped  back  they  followed  him  with  uplifted  hands 
of  entreaty  and  representation,  the  station-master 
forgetting  his  English,  and  the  driver  his  respect 
for  the  white  man.  Tarvin,  eluding  them  both, 
pitched  his  gripsack  into  the  bullock-cart,  bounded 
in  himself,  and  shouted  the  one  Indian  word  he 
knew.  It  happened,  fortunately,  to  be  the  word 
that  moves  all  India  — "  Challo ! "  which,  being 
interpreted,  is  "  Go  on !  " 

So,  leaving  strife  and  desolation  behind  him, 
rode  out  into  the  desert  of  Rajputana  Nicholas 
Tarvin  of  Topaz,  Colorado. 


70  THE  NATTLAHKA. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

In  the  State  of  Kot-Kumharsen,  where  the  wild  dacoits  abound 

And  the  Thakurs  live  in  castles  on  the  hills, 
Where  the  bunnia  and  bunjara  in  alternate  streaks  are  found 

And  the  Rajah  cannot  liquidate  his  bills ; 
Where  the  Agent  Sahib  Bahadur  shoots  the  black-buck  for  his 

larder 

From  the  tonga  which  he  uses  as  machan, 

'Twas  a  white  man  from  the  west,  came  expressly  to  investigate* 
the  natural  wealth  of  Hindustan.* 

Song  from  Libretto  of  Naulahka. 

UNDER  certain  conditions  four  days  can  dwarf 
eternity.  Tarvin  had  found  these  circumstances 
in  the  bullock-cart  from  which  he  crawled  ninety- 
six  hours  after  the  bullocks  had  got  up  from  the 
dust  at  Rawut  Junction.  They  stretched  behind 
him  —  those  hours  —  in  a  maddening,  creaking, 
dusty,  deliberate  procession.  In  an  hour  the  bul- 
lock-cart went  two  and  a  half  miles.  Fortunes 
had  been  made  and  lost  in  Topaz  —  happy  Topaz! 
—  while  the  cart  ploughed  its  way  across  a  red-hot 
river-bed  shut  in  between  two  walls  of  belted 
sand.  New  cities  might  have  risen  in  the  West 
and  fallen  to  ruins  older  than  Thebes  while,  after 

•  Copyright,  1802.  by  M»cmlllm  ft  Oo. 


A   STORY  OF   WEST   AND   BAST.  71 

any  of  their  meals  by  the  wayside,  the  driver 
droned  over  a  water-pipe  something  less  wieldy 
than  a  Gatling-gun.  In  these  waits  and  in  others 
—  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  journey  was  chiefly 
made  up  of  waits  —  Tarvin  saw  himself  distanced 
in  the  race  of  life  by  every  male  citizen  of  the 
United  States,  and  groaned  with  the  consciousness 
that  he  could  never  overtake  them,  or  make  up 
this  lost  time. 

Great  gray  cranes  with  scarlet  heads  stalked 
through  the  high  grass  of  the  swamps  in  the  pockets 
of  the  hills.  The  snipe  and  the  quail  hardly 
troubled  themselves  to  move  from  beneath  the  noses 
of  the  bullocks,  and  once  in  the  dawn,  lying  upon 
a  glistening  rock,  he  saw  two  young  panthers 
playing  together  like  kittens. 

A  few  miles  from  Rawut  Junction  his  driver 
had  taken  from  underneath  the  cart  a  sword,  which 
he  hung  around  his  neck,  and  sometimes  used  on 
the  bullocks  as  a  goad.  Tarvin  saw  that  every 
man  went  armed  in  this  country,  as  in  his  own. 
But  three  feet  of  clumsy  steel  struck  him  as  a  poor 
substitute  for  the  delicate  and  nimble  revolver. 

Once  he  stood  up  in  the  cart  and  hallooed,  for  he 
thought  he  saw  the  white  top  of  a  prairie  schooner. 
But  it  was  only  a  gigantic  cotton-wain,  drawn  by 
sixteen  bullocks,  dipping  and  plunging  across  the 
ridges.  Through  all,  the  scorching  Indian  sun 


72  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

blazed  down  on  him,  making  him  wonder  how  he 
had  ever  dared  praise  the  perpetual  sunshine  of 
Colorado.  At  dawn  the  rocks  glittered  like 
diamonds,  and  at  noonday  the  sands  of  the  rivers 
troubled  his  eyes  with  a  million  flashing  sparks. 
At  eventide  a  cold,  dry  wind  would  spring  up, 
and  the  hills  lying  along  the  horizon  took  a  hundred 
colors  under  the  light  of  the  sunset.  Then  Tarvin 
realized  the  meaning  of  "the  glorious  East,"  for 
the  hills  were  turned  to  heaps  of  ruby  and  amethyst, 
while  between  them  the  mists  in  the  valleys  were 
opal.  He  lay  in  the  bullock-cart  on  his  back  and 
stared  at  the  sky,  dreaming  of  the  Naulahka,  and 
wondering  whether  it  would  match  the  scenery. 

"The  clouds  know  what  I'm  up  to.  It's  a  good 
omen,"  he  said  to  himself. 

He  cherished  the  definite  and  simple  plan  of 
buying  the  Naulahka  and  paying  for  it  in  good 
money  to  be  raised  at  Topaz  by  bonding  the  town 
—  not,  of  course,  ostensibly  for  any  such  purpose. 
Topaz  was  good  for  it,  he  believed,  and  if  the 
Maharajah  wanted  too  steep  a  price  when  they 
came  to  talk  business  he  would  form  a  syndicate. 

As  the  cart  swayed  from  side  to  side,  bumping 
his  head,  he  wondered  where  Kate  was.  She  might, 
under  favorable  conditions,  be  in  Bombay  by  this 
time.  That  much  he  knew  from  careful  considera- 
tion of  her  route;  but  a  girl  alone  could  not  pass 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  73 

from  hemisphere  to  hemisphere  as  swiftly  as  an 
unfettered  man  spurred  by  love  of  herself  and  of 
Topaz.  Perhaps  she  was  resting  for  a  little  time 
with  the  Zenana  Mission  at  Bombay.  He  refused 
absolutely  to  admit  to  himself  that  she  had  fallen 
ill  by  the  way.  She  was  resting,  receiving  her 
orders,  absorbing  a  few  of  the  wonders  of  the  strange 
lands  he  had  contemptuously  thrust  behind  him  in 
his  eastward  flight;  but  in  a  few  days  at  most  she 
ought  to  be  at  Rhatore,  whither  the  bullock-cart 
was  taking  him. 

He  smiled  and  smacked  his  lips  with  pure  enjoy- 
ment as  he  thought  of  their  meeting,  and  amused 
himself  with  fancies  about  her  fancies  touching 
his  present  whereabouts. 

He  had  left  Topaz  for  San  Francisco  by  the  night 
train  over  the  Pass  a  little  more  than  twenty-four 
hours  after  his  conference  with  Mrs.  Mutrie,  saying 
good  by  to  no  one,  and  telling  nobody  where  he 
was  going.  Kate  perhaps  wondered  at  the  fervor 
of  his  "  Good  evening "  when  he  left  her  at  her 
father's  house  on  their  return  from  their  ride  to 
the  Hot  Springs.  But  she  said  nothing,  and  Tarvin 
contrived  by  an  effort  to  take  himself  off  without 
giving  himself  away.  He  had  made  a  quiet  sale 
of  a  block  of  town  lots  the  next  day  at  a  sacrifice, 
to  furnish  himself  with  money  for  the  voyage ;  but 
this  was  too  much  in  the  way  of  his  ordinary  business 


74  THE   NAULAHICA. 

to  excite  comment,  and  he  was  finally  able  to  gaze 
down  at  the  winking  lights  of  Topaz  in  the  valley 
from  the  rear  platform  of  his  train,  as  it  climbed 
up  over  the  Continental  Divide,  with  the  certainty 
that  the  town  he  was  going  to  India  to  bless  and 
boom  was  not  "on  to"  his  beneficent  scheme.  To 
make  sure  that  the  right  story  went  back  to  the 
town,  he  told  the  conductor  of  the  train,  in  strict 
confidence,  while  he  smoked  his  usual  cigar  with 
him,  about  a  little  placer-mining  scheme  in  Alaska 
which  he  was  going  there  to  nurse  for  a  while. 

The  conductor  embarrassed  him  for  a  moment 
by  asking  what  he  was  going  to  do  about  his  elec- 
tion meanwhile;  but  Tarvin  was  ready  for  him 
here  too.  He  said  that  he  had  that  fixed.  He  had 
to  let  him  into  another  scheme  to  show  him  how 
it  was  fixed,  but  as  he  bound  him  to  secrecy  again, 
this  didn't  matter. 

He  wondered  now,  however,  whether  that  scheme 
had  worked,  and  whether  Mrs.  Mutrie  would  keep 
her  promise  to  cable  the  result  of  the  election  to 
him  at  Rhatore.  It  was  amusing  to  have  to  trust 
a  woman  to  let  him  know  whether  he  was  a 
member  of  the  Colorado  legislature  or  not;  but 
she  was  the  only  living  person  who  knew  his 
address,  and  as  the  idea  had  seemed  to  please  her, 
in  common  with  their  whole  "  charming  conspiracy  " 
(this  was  what  ahe  called  it),  Tarvin  had  been 
content. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  BAST.  75 

When  he  had  become  convinced  that  his  eyes 
would  never  again  be  blessed  with  tlic  sight  of  a 
white  man,  or  his  ears  with  the  sound  of  intelligi- 
ble speech,  the  cart  rolled  through  a  gorge  between 
two  hills,  and  stopped  before  the  counterpart  of 
the  station  at  Rawut  Junction.  It  was  a  double 
cube  of  red  sandstone,  but  —  for  this  Tarvin  could 
have  taken  it  in  bis  arms  —  it  was  full  of  white 
men.  They  were  undressed  excessively;  they  were 
lying  in  the  veranda  in  long  chairs,  and  between 
each  chair  was  a  well-worn  bullock  trunk. 

Tarvin  got  himself  out  of  the  cart,  unfolding 
his  long  stiffened  legs  with  difficulty,  and  unkinking 
his  muscles  one  by  one.  He  was  a  mask  of  dust 
—  dust  beyond  sand-storms  or  cyclones.  It  had 
obliterated  the  creases  of  his  clothing  and  turned 
his  black  American  four-button  cutaway  to  c, 
pearly  white.  It  had  done  away  with  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  hem  of  his  trousers  and  the 
top  of  his  shoes.  It  dropped  off  him  and  rolled 
up  from  him  as  he  moved.  His  fervent  "Thank 
God!  "  was  extinguished  in  a  dusty  cough.  He 
stepped  into  the  veranda,  rubbing  his  smarting 


"Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  he  said.  "Got 
anything  to  drink?" 

No  one  rose,  but  somebody  shouted  for  the 
servant.  A  man  dressed  in  thin  Tussur  silk. 


76  THE  NAT7LAHKA. 

yellow  and  ill-fitting  as  the  shuck  on  a  dried  cob, 
and  absolutely  colorless  as  to  his  face,  nodded  to 
him  and  asked  languidly: 

"Who  are  you  for?" 

"No?  Have  they  got  them  here  too?"  said 
Tarvin  to  himself,  recognizing  in  that  brief  ques- 
tion the  universal  shibboleth  of  the  commercial 
traveller. 

He  went  down  the  long  line  and  twisted  each 
hand  in  pure  joy  and  thankfulness  before  he  began 
to  draw  comparisons  beween  the  East  and  the  West, 
and  to  ask  himself  if  these  idle,  silent  lotus-eaters 
could  belong  to  the  profession  with  which  he  had 
swapped  stories,  commodities,  and  political  opinions 
this  many  a  year  in  smoking-cars  and  hotel  offices. 
Certainly  they  were  debased  and  spiritless  parodies 
of  the  alert,  aggressive,  joyous,  brazen  animals 
whom  he  knew  as  the  drummers  of  the  West.  But 
perhaps  —  a  twinge  in  his  back  reminded  him  — 
they  had  all  reached  this  sink  of  desolation  via 
country  bullock-cart. 

He  thrust  his  nose  into  twelve  inches  of  whiskey 
and  soda,  and  remained  there  till  there  was  no  more ; 
then  dropped  into  a  vacant  chair  and  surveyed  the 
group  again. 

"Did  some  one  ask  who  I  was  for?  I'm  for 
myself,  I  suppose,  as  much  as  any  one  —  travelling 
for  pleasure." 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  77 

He  had  not  time  to  enjoy  the  absurditjT  of  this, 
for  all  five  men  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter, 
like  the  laughter  of  men  who  have  long  been 
estranged  from  mirth. 

"  Pleasure !  "  cried  one.  "  O  Lord !  "  "  Pleasure ! 
You've  come  to  the  wrong  place." 

"It's  just  as  well  you've  come  for  pleasure. 
You'd  be  dead  before  you  did  business,"  said 
another. 

"You  might  as  well  try  to  get  blood  out  of  a 
stone.  I've  been  here  over  a  fortnight." 

"Great  Scott!     What  for?"  asked  Tarvin. 

"We've  all  been  here  over  a  week,"  growled 
a  fourth. 

"But  what's  your  lay?    What's  your  racket?" 

"Guess  you're  an  American,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes;  Topaz,  Colorado."  The  statement  had  no 
effect  upon  them.  He  might  as  well  have  spoken 
in  Greek.  "But  what's  the  trouble?" 

"Why,  the  King  married  two  wives  yesterday. 
You  can  hear  the  gongs  going  in  the  city  now. 
He's  trying  to  equip  a  new  regiment  of  cavalry  for 
the  service  of  the  Indian  Government,  and  he's 
quarrelled  with  his  Political  Resident.  I've  been 
living  at  Colonel  Nolan's  door  for  three  days.  He 
says  he  can't  do  anything  without  authority  from 
the  supreme  Government.  I've  tried  to  catch  the 
King  when  he  goes  out  pig-shooting.  I  write 


78  THB  NAULAHKA. 

every  day  to  the  Prime  Minister,  when  I'm  not 
riding  around  the  city  on  a  camel;  and  here's  a 
bunch  of  letters  from  the  firm  asking  why  I  don't 
collect." 

At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  Tarvin  began  to 
understand  that  these  washed-out  representatives 
of  half  a  dozen  firms  in  Calcutta  and  Bombay  were 
hopelessly  besieging  this  place  on  their  regular 
spring  campaign  to  collect  a  little  on  account  from 
a  king  who  ordered  by  the  ton  and  paid  by  the 
scruple.  He  had  purchased  guns,  dressing-cnses, 
mirrors,  mantlepiece  ornaments,  crochet-work,  the 
iridescent  Christmas-tree  glass  balls,  saddlery,  mail- 
phaetons,  four-in-hands,  scent-bottles,  surgical  in- 
struments, chandeliers,  and  chinaware  by  the  dozen, 
gross,  or  score  as  his  royal  fancy  prompted.  When 
he  lost  interest  in  his  purchases  he  lost  interest 
in  paying  for  them;  and  as  few  things  amused  his 
jaded  fancy  more  than  twenty  minutes,  it  some-* 
times  came  to  pass  that  the  mere  purchase  was 
sufficient,  and  the  costly  packing-cases  from  Cal- 
cutta were  never  opened.  The  ordered  peace  of 
the  Indian  Empire  forbade  him  to  take  up  arms 
against  his  fellow  sovereigns,  the  only  lasting 
delight  that  he  or  his  ancestors  had  known  for  thou- 
sands of  years ;  but  there  remained  a  certain  modi- 
fied interest  of  war  in  battling  with  bill-collectors. 
On  one  side  stood  the  Political  Resident  of  the 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  BAST.  79 

State,  planted  there  to  teach  him  good  government, 
and,  above  all,  economy;  on  the  other  side  —  that 
is  to  say,  at  the  palace  gates  —  might  generally  be 
found  a  commercial  traveller,  divided  between  his 
contempt  of  an  evasive  debtor  and  his  English 
reverence  for  a  king.  Between  these  two  his 
Majesty  went  forth  to  take  his  pleasure  in  pig- 
sticking, in  racing,  in  the  drilling  of  his  army,  in 
the  ordering  of  more  unnecessaries,  and  in  the 
fitful  government  of  his  womankind,  who  knew 
considerably  more  of  each  commercial  traveller's 
claims  than  even  the  Prime  Minister.  Behind 
these  was  the  Government  of  India,  explicitly 
refusing  to  guarantee  payment  of  the  King's  debts, 
and  from  time  to  time  sending  him,  on  a  blue 
velvet  cushion,  the  jewelled  insignia  of  an  imperial 
order  to  sweeten  the  remonstrances  of  the  Political 
Resident. 

"Well,  I  hope  you  make  the  King  pay  for  it," 
said  Tarvin. 

"How's  that?" 

"Why,  in  my  country,  when  a  customer  sillies 
about  like  that,  promising  to  meet  a  man  one  day 
at  the  hotel  and  not  showing  up  and  then  promising 
to  meet  him  the  next  day  at  the  store  and  not  pay- 
ing, a  drummer  says  to  himself:  4Oh,  all  right. 
If  you  want  to  pay  my  board,  and  my  wine,  liquor, 
and  cigar  bill,  while  I  wait,  don't  mind  me.  I'll 


80  THE  NAULAHKA. 

mosey  along  somehow.'  And  after  the  second  day 
he  charges  up  his  poker  losings  to  him." 

"Ah,  that's  interesting.  But  how  does  he  get 
those  items  into  his  account?" 

"They  go  into  the  next  bill  of  goods  he  sells 
him,  of  course.  He  makes  the  prices  right  for 
that." 

"Oh,  we  can  make  prices  right  enough.  The 
difficulty  is  to  get  your  money." 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  you  fellows  have  the  time 
to  monkey  around  here  at  this  rate, "  urged  Tarvin, 
mystified.  "Where  I  come  from  a  man  makes  his 
trip  on  schedule  time,  and  when  he's  a  day  behind 
he'll  wire  to  his  customer  in  the  town  ahead  to 
come  down  to  the  station  and  meet  him,  and  he'll 
sell  him  a  bill  of  goods  while  the  train  waits.  He 
could  sell  him  the  earth  while  one  of  your  bullock- 
carts  went  a  mile.  And  as  to  getting  your  money, 
why  don't  you  get  out  an  attachment  on  the  old 
sinner?  In  your  places  I'd  attach  the  whole  country 
on  him.  I'd  attach  the  palace,  I'd  attach  his 
crown.  I'd  get  a  judgment  against  him,  and  I'd 
execute  it  too  —  personally,  if  necessary.  I'd  lock 
the  old  fellow  up  and  rule  Rajputana  for  him,  if 
I  had  to;  but  I'd  have  his  money." 

A  compassionate  smile  ran  around  the  group. 
"That's  because  you  don't  know,"  said  several  at 
once.  Then  they  began  to  explain  voluminously. 


A  STORY  OP  WEST  AND  BAST.  81 

There  was  no  languor  about  them  now;  they  all 
spoke  together. 

The  men  in  the  veranda,  though  they  seemed 
idle,  were  no  fools,  Tarvin  perceived  after  a  time. 
Lying  still  as  beggars  at  the  gate  of  greatness  was 
their  method  of  doing  business.  It  wasted  time, 
but  in  the  end  some  sort  of  payment  was  sure  to 
be  made,  especially,  explained  the  man  in  the 
yellow  coat,  if  you  could  interest  the  Prime  Minister 
in  your  needs,  and  through  him  wake  the  interests 
of  the  King's  women. 

A  flicker  of  memory  made  Tarvin  smile  faintly 
as  he  thought  of  Mrs.  Mutrie. 

The  man  in  the  yellow  coat  went  on,  and  Tarvin 
learned  that  the  head  queen  was  a  murderess,  con- 
victed of  poisoning  her  former  husband.  She  had 
lain  crouching  in  an  iron  cage  awaiting  execution 
when  the  King  first  saw  her,  and  the  King  had 
demanded  whether  she  would  poison  him  if  he 
married  her,  so  the  tale  ran.  Assuredly,  she  re- 
plied, if  he  treated  her  as  her  late  husband  had 
treated  her.  Thereupon  the  King  had  married  her, 
partly  to  please  his  fancy,  mainly  through  sheer 
delight  in  her  brutal  answer. 

This  gypsy  without  lineage  held  in  less  than  a 
year  King  and  state  under  her  feet  —  feet  which 
women  of  the  household  sang  spitefully  were 
roughened  with  travel  of  shameful  roads.  She 


82  THE  NAULAHKA. 

had  borne  the  King  one  son,  in  whom  all  her  pride 
and  ambition  centred,  and,  after  his  birth,  she 
had  applied  herself  with  renewed  energy  to  the 
maintenance  of  mastery  in  the  state.  The  supreme 
Government,  a  thousand  miles  away,  knew  that 
she  was  a  force  to  be  reckoned  with,  and  had  no 
love  for  her.  The  white-haired,  soft-spoken  Politi- 
cal Resident,  Colonel  Nolan,  who  lived  in  the 
pink  house  a  bow-shot  from  the  city  gates,  was 
often  thwarted  by  her.  Her  latest  victory  was 
peculiarly  humiliating  to  him,  for  she  had  dis- 
covered that  a  rock-hewn  canal  designed  to  supply 
the  city  with  water  in  summer  would  pass  through 
an  orange-garden  under  her  window,  and  had  used 
her  influence  with  the  Maharajah  against  it.  The 
Maharajah  had  thereupon  caused  it  to  be  taken 
around  by  another  way  at  an  expense  of  a  quarter 
of  his  year's  revenue,  and  in  the  teeth  of  the  almost 
tearful  remonstrance  of  the  Resident. 

Sitabhai,  the  gypsy,  behind  her  silken  curtains, 
had  both  heard  and  seen  this  interview  between 
the  Rajah  and  his  Political,  and  had  laughed. 

Tarvin  devoured  all  this  eagerly.  It  fed  his 
purpose ;  it  was  grist  to  his  mill,  even  if  it  tumbled 
his  whole  plan  of  attack  topsy-turvy.  It  opened  up  a 
new  world  for  which  he  had  no  measures  and  stand- 
ards, and  in  which  he  must  be  frankly  and  constantly 
dependent  on  the  inspiration  of  the  next  moment. 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  83 

He  couldn't  know  too  much  of  this  world  before 
taking  his  first  step  toward  the  Naulahka,  and  he 
was  willing  to  hear  all  that  these  lazy  fellows 
would  tell  him.  He  began  to  feel  as  if  he  should 
have  to  go  back  and  learn  his  A  B  C's  over  again. 
What  pleased  this  strange  being  they  called  King  ? 
what  appealed  to  him?  what  tickled  him?  above 
all,  what  did  he  fear? 

He  was  thinking  much  and  rapidly. 

But  he  said,  "No  wonder  your  King  is  bank- 
rupt if  he  has  such  a  court  to  look  after." 

"He's  one  of  the  richest  princes  in  India," 
returned  the  man  in  the  yellow  coat.  "  He  doesn't 
know  himself  what  he  has." 

"Why  doesn't  he  pay  his  debts,  then,  instead 
of  keeping  you  mooning  about  here?" 

"Because  he's  a  native.  He'd  spend  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds  on  a  marriage-feast,  and  delay 
payment  of  a  bill  for  two  hundred  rupees  four 
years." 

"You  ought  to  cure  him  of  that,"  insisted  Tarvin. 
"Send  a  sheriff  after  the  crown  jewels." 

"You  don't  know  Indian  princes.  They  would 
pay  a  bill  before  they  would  let  the  crown  jewels 
go.  They  are  sacred.  They  are  part  of  the  Govern- 
ment." 

"Ah,  I'd  give  something  to  see  the  Luck  of 
the  State ! "  exclaimed  a  voice  from  one  of  the 


84  THE  NAULAHKA. 

chairs,  which  Tarvin  afterward  learned  belonged 
to  the  agent  of  a  Calcutta  firm  of  jewellers. 

"What's  that?"  he  asked  as  casually  as  he 
knew  how,  sipping  his  whiskey  and  soda. 

"The  Naulahka.     Don't  you  know?" 

Tarvin  was  saved  the  need  of  an  answer  by 
the  man  in  yellow.  "  Pshaw !  All  that  talk  about 
the  Naulahka  is  invented  by  the  priests." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  returned  the  jeweller's  agent, 
judicially.  "The  King  told  me  when  I  was  last 
here  that  he  had  once  shown  it  to  a  viceroy.  But 
he  is  the  only  foreigner  who  has  ever  seen  it. 
The  King  assured  me  he  didn't  know  where  it 
was  himself." 

"  Pooh!  Do  you  believe  in  carved  emeralds 
two  inches  square?"  asked  the  other,  turning  to 
Tarvin. 

"That's  only  the  centrepiece,"  said  the  jeweller; 
"  and  I  wouldn't  mind  wagering  that  it's  a  tallow- 
drop  emerald.  It  isn't  that  that  staggers  me. 
My  wonder  is  how  these  chaps,  who  don't  care 
anything  for  water  in  a  stone,  could  have  taken 
the  trouble  to  get  together  half  a  dozen  perfect 
gems,  much  less  fifty.  They  say  that  the  necklace 
was  begun  when  William  the  Conqueror  came 
over." 

"That  gives  them  a  year  or  two,"  said  Tarvin. 
"I  would  undertake  to  get  a  little  jewelry  together 
myself  if  you  gave  me  eight  centuries." 


A   STORY  OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  8A 

His  face  was  turned  a  little  away  from  them  as 
he  lay  back  in  his  chair.  His  heart  was  going 
quickly.  He  had  been  through  mining-trades, 
land-speculations,  and  cattle-deals  in  his  time.  He 
had  known  moments  when  the  turn  of  a  hair,  the 
wrinkle  of  an  eyelid,  meant  ruin  to  him.  But 
they  were  not  moments  into  which  eight  centuries 
were  gathered. 

They  looked  at  him  with  a  remote  pity  in  their 
eyes. 

"Five  absolutely  perfect  specimens  of  the  nine 
precious  stones,"  began  the  jeweller;  "the  ruby, 
emerald,  sapphire,  diamond,  opal,  cat's-eye,  tur- 
quoise, amethyst,  and  —  " 

"Topaz?"  asked  Tarvin,  with  the  air  of  a  pro- 
prietor. 

"No;  black  diamond  —  black  as  night." 

"But  how  do  you  know  all  these  things;  how 
do  you  get  on  to  them?"  asked  Tarvin,  curiously. 

"  Like  everything  else  in  a  native  state  —  common 
talk,  but  difficult  to  prove.  Nobody  can  as  much 
as  guess  where  that  necklace  is." 

"Probably  under  the  foundations  of  some  temple 
in  the  city,"  said  the  yellow-coated  man. 

Tarvin,  in  spite  of  the  careful  guard  he  was 
keeping  over  himself,  could  not  help  kindling  at 
this.  He  saw  himself  digging  the  city  up." 

"Where  is  this  city?"  inquired  hb. 


86  THE  NAULA.HKA. 

They  pointed  across  the  sun-glare,  and  showed 
him  a  rock  girt  by  a  triple  line  of  wall.  It  was 
exactly  like  one  of  the  many  ruined  cities  that 
Tarvin  had  passed  in  the  bullock-cart.  A  rock  of 
a  dull  and  angry  red  surmounted  that  rock.  Up 
to  the  foot  of  the  rock  ran  the  yellow  sands  of  the 
actual  desert  —  the  desert  that  supports  neither  tree 
nor  shrub,  only  the  wild  ass,  and  somewhere  in  its 
heart,  men  say,  the  wild  camel. 

Tarvin  stared  through  the  palpitating  haze  of 
heat,  and  saw  that  there  was  neither  life  nor  motion 
about  the  city.  It  was  a  little  after  noonday,  and 
his  Majesty's  subjects  were  asleep.  This  solid 
block  of  loneliness,  then,  was  the  visible  end  of 
his  journey  —  the  Jericho  he  had  come  from  Topaz 
to  attack. 

And  he  reflected,  "Now,  if  a  man  should  come 
from  New  York  in  a  bullock-cart  to  whistle  around 
the  Sauguache  Range,  I  wonder  what  sort  of  fool 
I'd  call  him!" 

He  rose  and  stretched  his  dusty  limbs.  "What 
time  does  it  get  cool  enough  to  take  in  the  town  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  Do  what  to  the  town  ?  Better  be  careful.  You 
might  find  yourself  in  difficulties  with  the  Resi- 
dent," warned  his  friendly  adviser. 

Tarrin  could  not  understand  why  a  stroll  through 
the  deadest  town  he  had  ever  seen  should  be  for- 


A   STORY  OP   WEST   AND  EAST.  87 

bidden.  But  he  held  his  peace,  inasmuch  as  he 
was  in  a  strange  country  where  nothing,  save  a 
certain  desire  for  command  on  the  part  of  the 
women,  was  as  he  had  known  it.  He  would  take 
in  the  town  thoroughly.  Otherwise  he  began  to  fear 
that  its  monumental  sloth  —  there  was  still  no  sign 
of  life  upon  the  walled  rock  —  would  swallow  him 
up,  or  turn  him  into  a  languid  Calcutta  drummer. 

Something  must  be  done  at  once  before  his  wits 
were  numbed.  He  inquired  the  way  to  the  tele- 
graph-office, half-doubting,  even  though  he  saw 
the  wires,  the  existence  of  a  telegraph  in  Rhatore. 

"By  the  way,"  one  of  the  men  called  after  him, 
"it's  worth  remembering  that  any  telegram  you 
send  here  is  handed  all  round  the  court  and  shown 
to  the  King." 

Tarvin  thanked  him,  and  thought  this  was  worth 
remembering,  as  he  trudged  on  through  the  sand 
toward  a  desecrated  Mohammedan  mosque  near  the 
road  to  the  city  which  was  doing  duty  as  a  tele- 
graph-office, 

A  trooper  of  the  state  was  lying  fast  asleep  on 
the  threshold,  his  horse  picketed  to  a  long  bamboo 
lance  driven  into  the  ground.  Other  sign  of  life 
there  was  none,  save  a  few  doves  cooing  sleepily 
in  the  darkness  under  the  arch. 

Tarvin  gazed  about  him  dispiritedly  for  the  blue 
and  white  sign  of  the  Western  Union,  or  its 


88  THE  NAULAHKA. 

analogue  in  this  queer  land.  He  saw  that  the 
telegraph-wires  disappeared  through  a  hole  in  the 
dome  of  the  mosque.  There  were  two  or  three 
low  wooden  doors  under  the  archway.  He  opened 
one  at  random,  and  stepped  upon  a  warm,  hairy 
body,  which  sprang  up  with  a  grunt.  Tarvin  had 
hardly  time  to  draw  back  before  a  young  buffalo 
calf  rushed  out.  Undisturbed,  he  opened  another 
door,  disclosing  a  flight  of  steps  eighteen  inches 
wide.  Up  these  he  travelled  with  difficulty,  hoping 
to  catch  the  sound  of  the  ticker.  But  the  building 
was  as  silent  as  the  tomb  it  had  once  been.  He 
opened  another  door,  and  stumbled  into  a  room, 
the  domed  ceiling  of  which  was  inlaid  with  fretted 
tracery  in  barbaric  colors,  picked  out  with  myriads 
of  tiny  fragments  of  mirrors.  The  flood  of  color 
and  the  glare  of  the  snow-white  floor  made  him 
blink  after  the  pitchy  darkness  of  the  staircase. 
Still,  the  place  was  undoubtedly  a  telegraph-office, 
for  an  antiquated  instrument  was  clamped  upon 
a  cheap  dressing-table.  The  sunlight  streamed 
through  the  gash  in  the  dome  which  had  been  made 
to  admit  the  telegraph-wires,  and  which  had  not 
been  repaired. 

Tarvin  stood  in  the  sunlight  and  stared  about 
him.  He  took  off  the  soft,  wide-brimmed  Western 
hat,  which  he  was  finding  too  warm  for  this  climate, 
and  mopped  his  forehead.  As  he  stood  in  the 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  89 

sunlight,  straight,  clean-limbed,  and  strong,  one 
who  lurked  in  this  mysterious  spot  with  designs 
upon  him  would  have  decided  that  he  did  not  look 
a  wholesome  person  to  attack.  He  pulled  at  the 
long  thin  mustache  which  drooped  at  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  in  a  curve  shaped  by  the  habit  of 
tugging  at  it  in  thought,  and  muttered  picturesque 
remarks  in  a  tongue  to  which  these  walls  had  never 
echoed.  What  chance  was  there  of  communicating 
with  the  United  States  of  America  from  this  abyss 
of  oblivion?  Even  the  "damn "that  came  back  to 
him  from  the  depths  of  the  dome  sounded  foreign 
and  inexpressive. 

A  sheeted  figure  lay  on  the  floor.  "It  takes  a 
dead  man  to  run  this  place,"  exclaimed  Tarvin, 
discovering  the  body.  "Hallo,  you!  Get  up 
there!" 

The  figure  rose  to  its  feet  with  grunts,  cast  away 
its  covering,  and  disclosed  a  very  sleepy  native  in 
a  complete  suit  of  dove-colored  satin. 

"Ho!"  cried  he. 

"Yes,"  returned  Tarvin,  imperturbably. 

"You  want  to  see  me?" 

"No;  I  want  to  send  a  telegram,  if  there's  any 
electric  fluid  in  this  old  tomb." 

"Sir,"  said  the  native,  affably,  "you  have  come 
to  right  shop.  I  am  telegraph-operator  and  post- 
master-general of  this  state." 


90  THE  NAULAHKA. 

He  seated  himself  in  the  decayed  chair,  opened 
a  drawer  of  the  table,  and  began  to  search  for 
something. 

"What  you    looking    for,    young    man?     Lost 
your  connection  with  Calcutta?" 

"Most  gentlemen  bring  their  own  forms,"  he 
said  with  a  distant  note  of  reproach  in  his  bland 
manner.  "But  here  is  form.  Have  you  got 
pencil?" 

"Oh,  see  here,  don't  let  me  strain  this  office. 
Hadn't  you  better  go  and  lie  down  again?  I'll 
tap  the  message  off  myself.  What's  your  signal 
for  Calcutta?" 

"You,  sir,  not  understanding  this  instrument." 

" Don't  I?  You  ought  to  see  me  milk  the  wires 
at  election-time." 

"This  instrument  require  most  judeecious  hand- 
ling, sir.  You  write  message.  I  send.  That  is 
proper  division  of  labor.  Ha,  ha!  " 

Tarvin  wrote  his  message,  which  ran  thus: 

"  Q-etting  there.     Remember  Three  C.'s. 

TARVIN." 

It  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Mutrie  at  the  address 
she  had  given  him  in  Denver. 

"Rush  it,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  it  back  over 
the  table  to  the  smiling  image. 

"All    right;     no    fear.     I    am    here    for   that," 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  91 

returned  the  native,  understanding  in  general 
terms  from  the  cabalistic  word  that  his  customer 
was  in  haste. 

"  Will  the  thing  ever  get  there?  "  drawled  Tarvin, 
as  he  leaned  over  the  table  and  met  the  gaze  of 
the  satin-clothed  being  with  an  air  of  good  com- 
radeship, which  invited  him  to  let  him  into  the 
fraud,  if  there  was  one. 

"Oh,  yes}  to-morrow.  Denver  is  in  the  United 
States  America,"  said  the  native,  looking  up  at 
Tarvin  with  childish  glee  in  the  sense  of  knowl- 
edge. 

"Shake!"  exclaimed  Tarvin,  offering  him  a 
hairy  fist.  "You've  been  well  brought  up." 

He  stayed  half  an  hour  fraternizing  with  the 
man  on  the  foundation  of  this  common  ground  of 
knowledge,  and  saw  him  work  the  message  off  on 
his  instrument,  his  heart  going  out  on  that  first 
click  all  the  way  home.  In  the  midst  of  the  con- 
versation the  native  suddenly  dived  into  the 
cluttered  drawer  of  the  dressing-table,  and  drew 
forth  a  telegram  covered  with  dust,  which  he 
offered  to  Tarvin 's  scrutiny. 

"You  knowing  any  new  Englishman  coming  to 
Rhatore  name  Turpin?"  he  asked. 

Tarvin  stared  at  the  address  a  moment,  and  then 
tore  open  the  envelope  to  find,  as  he  expected,  that 
it  was  for  him.  It  was  from  Mrs.  Mutrie,  con- 


92  THE  NAtJLAHKA. 

gratulating  him  on  his  election  to  the  Colorado 
legislature  by  a  majority  of  1518  over  Sheriff. 

Tarvin  uttered  an  abandoned  howl  of  joy,  exe- 
cuted a  war-dance  on  the  white  floor  of  the  mosque, 
snatched  the  astounded  operator  from  behind  his 
table,  and  whirled  him  away  into  a  mad  waltz. 
Then,  making  a  low  salaam  to  the  now  wholly 
bewildered  native,  he  rushed  from  the  building, 
waving  his  cable  in  the  air,  and  went  capering  up 
the  road. 

When  he  was  back  at  the  rest-house  again  he 
retired  to  a  bath  to  grapple  seriously  with  the  dust 
of  the  desert,  while  the  commercial  travellers  with- 
out discussed  his  comings  and  goings.  He  plunged 
about  luxuriously  in  a  gigantic  bowl  of  earthen- 
ware, while  a  brown-skinned  water-carrier  sluiced 
the  contents  of  a  goat-skin  over  his  head. 

A  voice  in  the  veranda,  a  little  louder  than  the 
others,  said,  "He's  probably  come  prospecting  for 
gold  or  boring  for  oil,  and  won't  tell." 

Tarvin  winked  a  wet  left  eye. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

There  is  pleasure  in  the  wet,  wet  clay 
When  the  artist's  hand  is  potting  it, 
There  is  pleasure  in  the  wet,  wet  lay 
When  the  poet's  pad  is  blotting  it, 
There  is  pleasure  in  the  shine  of  your  picture  on  the  line 

At  the  Royal  Acade-my ; 

But  the  pleasure  felt  in  these  is  as  chalk  to  Cheddar  cheese 
When  it  comes  to  a  well-made  Lie, 
To  a  quite  unwreckable  Lie, 
To  a  most  impeccable  Lie  1 

To  a  water-tight,  fireproof,  angle-iron,  sunk-hinge,  time-lock, 
steel-faced  Lie ! 
Not  a  private  hansom  Lie, 
But  a  pair  and  brougham  Lie  ; 

Not  a  little  place  at  Tooting,  but  a  country-house  with  shoot- 
ing and  a  ringe-fence  deer-park  Liel  * 

Op.  3. 

A  COMMON  rest-house  in  the  desert  is  not  over- 
stocked with  furniture  or  carpets.  One  table, 
two  chairs,  a  rack  on  the  door  for  clothing,  and  a 
list  of  charges,  are  sufficient  for  each  room;  and 
the  traveller  brings  his  own  bedding.  Tarvin  read 
the  tariff  with  deep  interest  before  falling  asleep 
that  night,  and  discovered  that  this  was  only  in  a 
distant  sense  a  hotel,  and  that  he  was  open  to  the 
danger  of  being  turned  out  at  twelve  hours'  notice, 

*  Copyright,  1103,  by  Macmlllan  *  Co. 


94  THE  NAULAEKA. 

after  he  had  inhabited  his  unhomely  apartment  for 
a  day  and  a  night. 

Before  he  went  to  bed  he  called  for  pen  and  ink, 
and  wrote  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Mutrie  on  the  note-paper 
of  his  land  and  improvement  company.  Under  the 
map  of  Colorado,  at  the  top,  which  confidently 
showed  the  railroad  system  of  the  State  converging 
at  Topaz,  was  the  legend,  "N.  Tarvin,  Real  Estate 
and  Insurance  Agent."  The  tone  of  his  letter  was 
even  more  assured  than  the  map. 

He  dreamed  that  night  that  the  Maharajah  was 
swapping  the  Naulahka  with  him  for  town  lots. 
His  Majesty  backed  out  just  as  they  were  con- 
cluding the  deal,  and  demanded  that  Tarvin  should 
throw  in  his  own  favorite  mine,  the  "Lingering 
Lode,"  to  boot.  In  his  dream  Tarvin  had  kicked 
at  this,  and  the  Rajah  had  responded,  "All  right, 
my  boy;  no  Three  C.'s  then,"  and  Tarvin  had 
yielded  the  point,  had  hung  the  Naulahka  about 
Mrs.  Mutrie's  neck,  and  in  the  same  breath  had 
heard  the  speaker  of  the  Colorado  legislature  declar- 
ing that  since  the  coming  of  the  Three  C.'s  he 
officially  recognized  Topaz  as  the  metropolis  of 
the  West.  Then,  perceiving  that  he  himself  was 
the  speaker,  Tarvin  began  to  doubt  the  genuineness 
of  these  remarks,  and  awoke,  with  aloes  in  his 
mouth,  to  find  the  dawn  spreading  over  Rhatore, 
and  beckoning  him  out  to  the  conquests  of  reality. 


A  STOKY  OF  WEST   AND  EAST.  95 

He  was  confronted  in  the  veranda  by  a  grizzled, 
bearded,  booted  native  soldier  on  a  camel,  who 
handed  down  to  him  a  greasy  little  brown  book, 
bearing  the  legend,  Please  write  "seen." 

Tarvin  looked  at  this  new  development  from  the 
heated  landscape  with  interest,  but  not  with  an 
outward  effect  of  surprise.  He  had  already  learned 
one  secret  of  the  East,  never  to  be  surprised  at 
anything.  He  took  the  book  and  read,  on  a 
thumbed  page,  the  announcement,  "Divine  services 
conducted  on  Sundays  in  the  drawing-room  of  the 
residency  at  7.30  A.M.  Strangers  are  cordially 
invited  to  attend.  (Signed)  L,  R.  Estes,  American 
Presbyterian  Mission." 

"They  don't  get  up  early  for  nothing  in  this 
country,"  mused  Tarvin.  "'Church  at  7.30  A.M.* 
When  do  they  have  dinner?  Well,  what  do  I  do 
about  this  ?  "  he  asked  the  man  aloud.  The  trooper 
and  camel  looked  at  him  together,  and  grunted 
as  they  went  away.  It  was  no  concern  of  theirs. 

Tarvin  addressed  a  remark  of  confused  purport 
to  the  retreating  figures.  This  was  plainly  not  a 
country  in  which  business  could  be  done  at  red 
heat.  He  hungered  for  the  moment  when,  with 
the  necklace  in  his  pocket  and  Kate  by  his  side, 
he  should  again  set  his  face  westward. 

The  shortest  way  to  that  was  to  go  over  to  call 
on  the  missionary.  He  was  an  American,  and 


96  THE  NAULAHKA. 

could  tell  him  about  the  Naulahka  if  anybody 
could;  Tarvin  had  also  a  shrewd  suspicion  that 
he  could  tell  him  something  about  Kate. 

The  missionary's  home,  which  was  just  without 
the  city  walls,  was  also  of  red  sandstone,  one 
story  high,  and  as  bare  of  vines,  or  any  living 
thing,  as  the  station  at  Rawut  Junction.  But 
he  presently  found  that  there  were  living  beings 
inside  the  house,  with  warm  hearts  and  a  welcome 
for  him.  Mrs.  Estes  turned  out  to  be  that  motherly 
and  kindly  woman,  with  the  instinct  for  house- 
keeping, who  would  make  a  home  of  a  cave.  She 
had  a  round,  smooth  face,  a  soft  skin,  and  quiet, 
happy  eyes.  She  may  have  been  forty.  Her  still 
untinged  brown  hair  was  brushed  smoothly  back; 
her  effect  was  sedate  and  restful. 

Their  visitor  had  learned  that  they  came  from 
Bangor,  Maine,  had  founded  a  tie  of  brotherhood 
on  the  fact  that  his  father  had  been  born  on  a  farm 
down  Portland  way,  and  had  been  invited  to  break- 
fast before  he  had  been  ten  minutes  in  the  house. 
Tarvin 's  gift  of  sympathy  was  irresistible.  He 
was  the  kind  of  man  to  whom  men  confide  their 
heart-secrets,  and  the  canker  of  their  inmost  lives, 
in  hotel  smoking-rooms.  He  was  the  repository 
of  scores  of  tales  of  misery  and  error  which  he 
could  do  nothing  to  help,  and  of  a  few  which  he 
could  help  and  had  helped.  Before  breakfast  was 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  97 

ready  lie  had  from  Estes  and  his  wife  the  whole  pic- 
ture of  their  situation  at  Rhatore.  They  told  him 
of  their  troubles  with  the  Maharajah  and  with  the 
Maharajah's  wives,  and  of  the  exceeding  unfruit- 
fulness  of  their  work;  and  then  of  their  children, 
living  in  the  exile  of  Indian  children,  at  home. 
They  explained  that  they  meant  Bangor;  they 
were  there  with  an  aunt,  receiving  their  education 
at  the  hands  of  a  public  school. 

"It's  five  years  since  we  saw  them,"  said  Mrs. 
Estes,  as  they  sat  down  to  breakfast.  "Fred  was 
only  six  when  he  went,  and  Laura  was  eight. 
They  are  eleven  and  thirteen  now  —  only  think! 
We  hope  they  haven't  forgotten  us;  but  how  can 
they  remember?  They  are  only  children." 

And  then  she  told  him  stories  of  the  renewal  of 
filial  ties  in  India,  after  such  absences,  that  made 
his  blood  run  cold. 

The  breakfast  woke  a  violent  homesickness  in 
Tarvin.  After  a  month  at  sea,  two  days  of  the 
chance  railway  meals  between  Calcutta  and  Rawut 
Junction,  and  a  night  at  the  rest-house,  he  was 
prepared  to  value  the  homely  family  meal,  and  the 
abundance  of  an  American  breakfast.  They  began 
with  a  watermelon,  which  did  not  help  him  to 
feel  at  home,  because  watermelons  were  next  to 
an  unknown  luxury  at  Topaz,  and  when  known, 
did  not  ripen  in  grocers'  windows  in  the  month 


98  THE  NAULAHKA. 

of  April.  But  the  oatmeal  brought  him  home 
again,  and  the  steak  and  fried  potatoes,  the  coffee 
and  the  hot  brown  pop-overs,  with  their  beguiling 
yellow  interiors,  were  reminders  far  too  deep  for 
tears.  Mrs.  Estes,  enjoying  his  enjoyment,  said 
they  must  have  out  the  can  of  maple  syrup,  which 
had  been  sent  them  all  the  way  from  Bangor ;  and 
when  the  white-robed,  silent-moving  servant  in  the 
red  turban  came  in  with  the  waffles,  she  sent  him 
for  it.  They  were  all  very  happy  together  over 
this,  and  said  pleasant  things  about  the  American 
republic,  while  the  punka  sang  its  droning  song 
over  their  heads. 

Tarvin  had  a  map  of  Colorado  in  his  pocket, 
of  course,  and  when  the  talk,  swinging  to  one  part 
of  the  United  States  and  another,  worked  Westward, 
he  spread  it  out  on  the  breakfast-table  between 
the  waffles  and  the  steak,  and  showed  them  the 
position  of  Topaz.  He  explained  to  Estes  how  a 
new  railway,  running  north  and  south,  would  make 
the  town,  and  then  he  had  to  say  affectionately  what 
a  wonderful  town  it  really  was,  and  to  tell  them 
about  the  buildings  they  had  put  up  in  the  last 
twelve  months,  and  how  they  had  picked  them- 
selves up  after  the  fire  and  gone  to  building  the 
next  morning.  The  fire  had  brought  $100,000  into 
the  town  in  insurance,  he  said.  He  exaggerated 
his  exaggerations  in  unconscious  defiance  of  the 


A   STORY   OF  WEST  AND   EAST.  99 

hugeness  of  the  empty  landscape  lying  outside  the 
window.  He  did  not  mean  to  let  the  East  engulf 
him  or  Topaz. 

"We've  got  a  young  lady  coming  to  us,  I  think, 
from  your  state,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Estes,  to  whom 
all  Western  towns  were  alike.  "  Wasn't  it  Topaz, 
Lucien?  I'm  almost  sure  it  was." 

She  rose  and  went  to  her  work-basket  for  a  letter, 
from  which  she  confirmed  her  statement.  "Yes; 
Topaz.  A  Miss  Sheriff.  She  comes  to  us  from  the 
Zenana  Mission.  Perhaps  you  know  her?" 

Tarvin's  head  bent  over  the  map,  which  he  was 
refolding.  He  answered  shortly,  "Yes;  I  know 
her.  When  is  she  likely  to  be  here?" 

"Most  any  day  now,"  said  Mrs.  Estes. 

"It  seems  a  pity,"  said  Tarvin,  "to  bring  a 
young  girl  out  here  all  alone,  away  from  her 
friends — though  I'm  sure  you'll  be  friends  to 
her,"  he  added  quickly,  seeking  Mrs.  Estes 'a  eyes. 

"  We  shall  try  to  keep  her  from  getting  home- 
sick," said  Mrs.  Estes,  with  the  motherly  note  in 
her  voice.  "There's  Fred  and  Laura  home  in 
Bangor,  you  know,"  she  added  after  a  pause. 

"That  will  be  good  of  you,"  said  Tarvin,  with 
more  feeling  than  the  interests  of  the  Zenana 
Mission  demanded. 

"  May  I  ask  what  your  business  is  here  ?  "  inquired 
the  missionary,  as  he  passed  his  cup  to  his  wife  to 
be  refilled. 


100  THE  NAULAHKA. 

He  had  a  rather  formal  habit  of  speech,  and  his 
words  came  muffled  from  the  depths  of  a  dense 
jungle  of  beard  —  iron-gray  and  unusually  long. 
He  had  a  benevolently  grim  face,  a  precise  but 
friendly  manner,  and  a  good  way  of  looking  one 
in  the  eye  which  Tarvin  liked.  He  was  a  man  of 
decided  opinions,  particularly  about  the  native 
races  of  India. 

"Well,  I'm  prospecting,"  said  Tarvin,  in  a 
leisurely  tone,  glancing  out  of  the  window  as  if 
he  expected  to  see  Kate  start  up  out  of  the  desert. 

"Ah!     For  gold?" 

"W-e-1-1,  yes;  as  much  that  as  anything." 

Estes  invited  him  out  upon  the  veranda  to  smoke 
a  cigar  with  him ;  his  wife  brought  her  sewing  and 
sat  with  them;  and  as  they  smoked  Tarvin  asked 
him  his  questions  about  the  Naulahka.  Where 
was  it?  What  was  it?  he  inquired  boldly.  But 
he  found  that  the  missionary,  though  an  American, 
was  no  wiser  about  it  than  the  lazy  commercial 
travellers  at  the  rest-house.  He  knew  that  it 
existed,  but  knew  no  man  who  had  seen  it  save 
the  Maharajah.  Tarvin  got  at  this  through  much 
talk  about  other  things  which  interested  him  less; 
but  he  began  to  see  an  idea  in  the  gold-mining  to 
which  the  missionary  persistently  returned.  Estes 
said  he  meant  to  engage  in  placer-mining,  of 
course  ? 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  BAST.  101 

"Of  course,"  assented  Tarvin. 

"But  you  won't  find  much  gold  in  the  Amet 
River,  I  fancy.  The  natives  have  washed  it  spas- 
modically for  hundreds  of  years.  There  is  nothing 
to  be  found  but  what  little  silt  washes  down  from 
the  quartz  rocks  of  the  Gungra  Hills.  But  you 
will  be  undertaking  work  on  a  large  scale,  I 
judge?"  said  the  missionary,  looking  at  him 
curiously. 

"Oh,  on  a  large  scale,  of  course." 

Estes  added  that  he  supposed  he  had  thought 
of  the  political  difficulties  in  his  way.  He  would 
have  to  get  the  consent  of  Colonel  Nolan,  and 
through  him  the  consent  of  the  British  Government, 
if  he  meant  to  do  anything  serious  in  the  state. 
In  fact  he  would  have  to  get  Colonel  Nolan's 
consent  to  stay  in  Rhatore  at  all. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  shall  have  to  make  it  worth 
the  British  Government's  while  to  let  me  alone?" 

"Yes." 

"All  right;  I'll  do  that  too." 

Mrs.  Estes  looked  up  quickly  at  her  husband 
from  under  her  eyebrows.  Woman-like,  she  was 
thinking. 


102 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

When  a  Lover  hies  abroad 

Looking  for  his  Love, 
Azrael  smiling  sheaths  his  s\rord, 

Heaven  smiles  above. 
Earth  and  Sea 
His  servants  be 
And  to  lesser  compass  round, 
That  his  Love  be  sooner  found.* 

Chorus  from  Libretto  of  Naulahka. 

TABVIN  learned  a  number  of  things  within  the 
next  week ;  and  with  what  the  West  calls  "  adapta- 
bility,'* put  on,  with  the  complete  suit  of  white 
linen  which  he  donned  the  second  day,  an  initiation 
into  the  whole  new  system  of  manners,  usages,  and 
traditions.  They  were  not  all  agreeable,  but  they 
were  all  in  a  good  cause,  and  he  took  pains  to  see 
that  his  new  knowledge  should  not  go  for  nothing, 
by  securing  an  immediate  presentation  to  the  only 
man  in  the  state  of  whom  it  was  definitely 
assertable  that  he  had  seen  the  object  of  his  hopes. 
Estes  willingly  presented  him  to  the  Maharajah. 
The  missionary  and  he  rode  one  morning  up  the 
steep  slopes  of  the  rock  on  which  stood  the  palace, 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  Macmillan  &  do. 


A  STORY  OP  WEST  AND  EAST.  103 

itself  rock-hewn.  Passing  through  a  deep  archway, 
they  entered  a  marble-flagged  court-yard,  and  there 
found  the  Maharajah,  attended  by  one  ragged  and 
out-at-elbow  menial,  discussing  the  points  of  a 
fox-terrier,  which  was  lying  before  him  on  the 
flags. 

Tarvin,  unversed  in  kings,  had  expected  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  state  from  one  who  did  not  pay  his 
bills,  and  might  be  reasonably  expected  to  culti- 
vate reserve;  but  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  slov- 
enly informality  of  a  ruler  in  his  everyday  garb, 
released  from  the  duty  of  behaving  with  restraint 
in  the  presence  of  a  viceroy,  nor  for  the  picturesque 
mixture  of  dirt  and  decoration  about  the  court. 
The  Maharajah  proved  a  large  and  amiable  despot, 
brown  and  bush-bearded,  arrayed  in  a  gold- 
sprigged  green  velvet  dressing-gown,  who  ap- 
peared only  too  delighted  to  meet  a  man  who  had 
no  connection  with  the  Government  of  India,  and 
who  never  mentioned  the  subject  of  money. 

The  disproportionate  smallness  of  his  hands  and 
feet  showed  that  the  ruler  of  Gokral  Seetarun  came 
of  the  oldest  blood  in  Rajputana;  his  fathers  had 
fought  hard  and  ridden  far  with  sword-hilts  and 
stirrups  that  would  hardly  serve  an  English  child. 
His  face  was  bloated  and  sodden,  and  the  dull  eyes 
stared  wearily  above  deep,  rugged  pouches.  To 
Tarvin,  accustomed  to  read  the  motives  of  Western 


104  THE  ^ATTLAHKA. 

men  in  their  faces,  there  seemed  to  be  neither  fear 
nor  desire  in  those  eyes  —  only  an  everlasting 
weariness.  It  was  like  looking  at  an  extinct 
Volcano  —  a  volcano  that  rumbled  in  good  English. 

Tarvin  had  a  natural  interest  in  dogs,  and  the 
keenest  possible  desire  to  ingratiate  himself  with 
the  ruler  of  the  state.  As  a  king  he  considered  him 
something  of  an  imposture,  but  as  a  brother  dog- 
fancier,  and  the  lord  of  the  Naulahka,  he  was  to 
Tarvin  more  than  a  brother;  that  is  to  say,  the 
brother  of  one's  beloved.  He  spoke  eloquently  and 
to  the  point. 

"Come  again,"  said  the  Maharajah,  with  a  light 
of  real  interest  in  his  eyes,  as  Estes,  a  little  scan- 
dalized, drew  off  his  guest.  "Come  again  this 
evening  after  dinner.  You  have  come  from  new 
countries  ?  " 

His  Majesty,  later,  carried  away  by  the  evening 
draught  of  opium,  without  which  no  Rajput  can 
talk  or  think,  taught  this  irreverent  stranger,  who 
told  him  tales  of  white  men  beyond  the  seas,  the 
royal  game  of  pachisi.  They  played  it  far  into  the 
night,  in  the  marble-flagged  court-yard,  surrounded 
by  green  shutters  from  behind  which  Tarvin  could 
hear,  without  turning  his  head,  the  whisper  of 
watching  women  and  the  rustle  of  silken  robes. 
The  palace,  he  saw,  was  all  eyes. 

Next   morning,    at    dawn,    he    found    the    King 


A   STOKY   OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  105 

waiting  at  the  head  of  the  main  street  of  his  city 
for  a  certain  notorious  wild  boar  to  come  home. 
The  game-laws  of  Gokral  Seetarun  extended  to  the 
streets  of  walled  towns,  and  the  wild  pig  rooted 
unconcerned  at  night  in  the  alleyways.  The  pig 
came,  and  was  dropped,  at  a  hundred  yards,  by  his 
Majesty's  new  Express  rifle.  It  was  a  clean  shot, 
and  Tarvin  applauded  cordially.  Had  his  Majesty 
the  King  ever  seen  a  flying  coin  hit  by  a  pistol- 
bullet?  The  weary  eyes  brightened  with  childish 
delight.  The  King  had  not  seen  this  feat,  and  had 
not  the  coin.  Tarvin  flung  an  American  quarter 
skyward,  and  clipped  it  with  his  revolver  as  it  fell. 
Thereupon  the  King  begged  him  to  do  it  again, 
which  Tarvin,  valuing  his  reputation,  politely  de- 
clined to  do  unless  one  of  the  court  officials  would 
set  the  example. 

The  King  was  himself  anxious  to  try,  and  Tarvin 
threw  the  coin  for  him.  The  bullet  whizzed 
unpleasantly  close  to  Tarvin 's  ear,  but  the  quarter 
on  the  grass  was  dented  when  he  picked  it  up.  The 
King  liked  Tarvin's  dent  as  well  as  if  it  had  been 
his  own,  and  Tarvin  was  not  the  man  to  undeceive 
him. 

The  following  morning  the  royal  favor  was 
completely  withdrawn,  and  it  was  not  until  he  had 
conferred  with  the  disconsolate  drummers  in  the 
rest-house  that  Tarvin  learned  that  Sitabhai  had 


106  THE  NAULAHKA. 

been  indulging  one  of  her  queenly  rages.  On 
this  he  transferred  himself  and  his  abundant 
capacity  for  interesting  men  offhand  to  Colonel 
Nolan,  and  made  that  weary  white-haired  man 
laugh  as  he  had  not  laughed  since  he  had  been  a 
subaltern  over  an  account  of  the  King's  revolver 
practice.  Tarvin  shared  his  luncheon,  and  dis- 
covered from  him  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon 
the  true  policy  of  the  Government  of  India  in 
regard  to  the  state  of  Gokral  Seetarun.  The 
Government  hoped  to  elevate  it ;  but  as  the  Maha- 
rajah would  not  pay  for  the  means  of  civilization, 
the  progress  was  slow.  Colonel  Nolan's  account 
of  the  internal  policy  of  the  palace,  given  with 
official  caution,  was  absolutely  different  from  the 
missionary's,  which  again  differed  entirely  from  the 
profane  account  of  the  men  in  the  rest-house. 

At  twilight  the  Maharajah  pursued  Tarvin  with 
a  mounted  messenger,  for  the  favor  of  the  royal 
countenance  was  restored,  and  he  required  the 
presence  of  the  tall  man  who  clipped  coins  in  the 
air,  told  tales,  and  played  pachisi.  There  was  more 
than  pachisi  upon  the  board  that  night,  and  his 
Majesty  the  King  grew  pathetic,  and  confided  to 
Tarvin  a  long  and  particular  account  of  his  own 
and  the  state's  embarrassments,  which  presented 
everything  in  a  fourth  new  light.  He  concluded 
with  an  incoherent  appeal  to  the  President  of  the 


A   STOEY  OP  WEST   AND  EAST.  107 

United  States,  on  whose  illimitable  powers  and 
far-reaching  authority  Tarvin  dwelt,  with  a  patriot- 
ism extended  for  the  moment  to  embrace  the  nation 
to  which  Topaz  belonged.  For  many  reasons  he 
did  not  conceive  that  this  was  an  auspicious  time 
to  open  negotiations  for  the  transfer  of  the 
Naulahka.  The  Maharajah  would  have  given 
away  half  his  kingdom,  and  appealed  to  the  Resi- 
dent in  the  morning. 

The  next  day,  and  many  succeeding  days, 
brought  to  the  door  of  the  rest-house,  where  Tarvin 
was  still  staying,  a  procession  of  rainbow-clad 
Orientals,  ministers  of  the  court  each  one,  who 
looked  with  contempt  on  the  waiting  commercial 
travellers,  and  deferentially  made  themselves  known 
to  Tarvin,  whom  they  warned  in  fluent  and  stilted 
English  against  trusting  anybody  except  them- 
selves. Each  confidence  wound  up  with,  "And 
I  am  your  true  friend,  sir  " ;  and  each  man  accused 
his  fellows  to  the  stranger  of  every  crime  against 
the  state,  or  ill  will  toward  the  Government  of 
India,  that  it  had  entered  his  own  brain  to 
conceive. 

Tarvin  could  only  faintly  conjecture  what  all 
this  meant.  It  seemed  to  him  no  extraordinary 
mark  of  court  favor  to  play  pachisi  with  the  King, 
and  the  mazes  of  Oriental  diplomacy  were  dark  to 
him.  The  ministers  were  equally  at  a  loss  to 


108  THE  NAULAHKA. 

understand  him.  He  had  walked  in  upon  them 
from  out  the  sky-line,  utterly  self-possessed,  utterly 
fearless,  and,  so  far  as  they  could  see,  utterly  dis- 
interested; the  greater  reason,  therefore,  for  sus- 
pecting that  he  was  a  veiled  emissary  of  the  Govern- 
ment, whose  plans  they  could  not  fathom.  That 
he  was  barbarously  ignorant  of  everything  per- 
taining to  the  Government  of  India  only  confirmed 
their  belief.  It  was  enough  for  them  to  know  that 
he  went  to  the  King  in  secret,  was  closeted  with 
him  for  hours,  and  possessed,  for  the  time  being, 
the  royal  ear. 

These  smooth-voiced,  stately,  mysterious  strangers 
filled  Tarvin  with  weariness  and  disgust,  and  he 
took  out  his  revenge  upon  the  commercial  travellers, 
to  whom  he  sold  stock  in  his  land  and  improvement 
company  between  their  visits.  The  yellow-coated 
man,  as  his  first  friend  and  adviser,  he  allowed  to 
purchase  a  very  few  shares  in  the  "Lingering 
Lode,"  on  the  dead  quiet.  It  was  before  the  days 
of  the  gold  boom  in  Lower  Bengal,  and  there  was 
still  faith  in  the  land. 

These  transactions  took  him  back  in  fancy  to 
Topaz,  and  made  him  long  for  some  word  about 
the  boys  at  home,  from  whom  he  had  absolutely 
cut  himself  off  by  this  secret  expedition,  in  which 
he  was  playing,  necessarily  alone,  for  the  high 
stake  common  to  them  both.  He  would  have  given 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND  BAST.  109 

all  the  rupees  in  his  pocket  at  any  moment  for  a 
sight  of  the  "Topaz  Telegram,"  or  even  for  a  look 
at  a  Denver  daily.  What  was  happening  to  his 
mines  —  to  the  "Mollie  K.,"  which  was  being 
worked  on  a  lease;  to  the  "Mascot,"  which  was  the 
subject  of  a  legal  dispute;  to  the  "Lingering 
Lode,"  where  they  had  been  on  the  point  of  strik- 
ing it  very  rich  when  he  left;  and  to  his  "Garfield  " 
claim,  which  Fibby  Winks  had  jumped?  What 
had  become  of  the  mines  of  all  his  friends,  of  their 
cattle-ranches,  of  their  deals?  What,  in  fine,  had 
become  of  Colorado  and  of  the  United  States  of 
America?  They  might  have  legislated  silver  out 
of  existence  at  Washington,  for  all  he  knew,  and 
turned  the  republic  into  a  monarchy  at  the  old 
stand. 

His  single  resource  from  these  pangs  was  his 
visits  to  the  house  of  the  missionary,  where  they 
talked  Bangoi,  Maine,  in  the  United  States.  To 
that  house  he  knew  that  every  day  was  bringing 
nearer  the  little  girl  he  had  come  half-way  round 
the  world  to  keep  in  sight. 

In  the  splendor  of  a  yellow-and- violet  morning, 
ten  days  after  his  arrival,  he  was  roused  from  his 
sleep  by  a  small,  shrill  voice  in  the  veranda  demand- 
ing the  immediate  attendance  of  the  new  English- 
man. The  Maharaj  Kunwar,  heir  apparent  to  the 
throne  of  Gokral  Seetarun,  a  wheat-colored  child, 


110  THE  NAULAHKA. 

aged  nine,  had  ordered  his  miniature  court,  which 
was  held  quite  distinct  from  his  father's,  to  equip 
his  C-spring  barouche,  and  to  take  him  to  the  rest- 
house. 

Like  his  jaded  father,  the  child  required  amuse- 
ment. All  the  women  of  the  palace  had  told  him 
that  the  new  Englishman  made  the  King  laugh. 
The  Maharaj  Kunwar  could  speak  English  much 
better  than  his  father, —  French,  too,  for  the  matter 
of  that, —  and  he  was  anxious  to  show  off  his 
accomplishments  to  a  court  whose  applause  he  had 
not  yet  commanded. 

Tarvin  obeyed  the  voice  because  it  was  a  child's, 
and  came  out  to  find  an  apparently  empty  barouche 
and  an  escort  of  ten  gigantic  troopers. 

"How  do  you  do?  Comment  vous  portez-vousf 
I  am  the  prince  of  this  state.  I  am  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar.  Some  day  I  shall  be  king.  Come  for  a 
drive  with  me." 

A  tiny  mittened  hand  was  extended  in  greeting. 
The  mittens  were  of  the  crudest  magenta  wool,  with 
green  stripes  at  the  wrist;  but  the  child  was  robed 
in  stiff  gold  brocade  from  head  to  foot,  and  in  his 
turban  was  set  an  aigret  of  diamonds  six  inches 
high,  while  emeralds  in  a  thick  cluster  fell  over 
his  eyebrow.  Under  all  this  glitter  the  dark  onyx 
eyes  looked  out,  and  they  were  full  of  pride  and 
*of  the  loneliness  of  childhood. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  Ill 

Tarvin  obediently  took  his  seat  in  the  barouche. 
He  was  beginning  to  wonder  whether  he  should 
ever  wonder  at  anything  again. 

"We  will  drive  beyond  the  race-course  on  the 
railway  road,"  said  the  child.  "Who  are  you?"  he 
asked,  softly  laying  his  hand  on  Tarvin's  wrist. 

"Just  a  man,  sonny." 

The  face  looked  very  old  under  the  turban,  for 
those  born  to  absolute  power,  or  those  who  have 
never  known  a  thwarted  desire,  and  reared  under 
the  fiercest  sun  in  the  world,  age  even  more  swiftly 
than  the  other  children  of  the  East,  who  are  self- 
possessed  men  when  they  should  be  bashful  babes. 

"They  say  you  come  here  to  see  things." 

"That's  true,"  said  Tarvin. 

"When  I'm  king  I  shall  allow  nobody  to  come 
here  —  not  even  the  viceroy." 

"That  leaves  me  out,"  remarked  Tarvin,  laugh- 
ing. 

"You  shall  come, "returned  the  child,  measuredly, 
"if  you  make  me  laugh.  Make  me  laugh  now." 

"Shall  I,  little  fellow?  Well  — there  was  once 
—  I  wonder  what  would  make  a  child  laugh  in 
this  country.  I've  never  seen  one  do  it  yet. 
W-h-e-w !  "  Tarvin  gave  a  low,  long-drawn  whistle. 
"What's  that  over  there,  my  boy?" 

A  little  puff  of  dust  rose  very  far  down  the  road. 
It  was  made  by  swiftly  moving  wheels,  cons*- 


112  THE  NAULAHKA. 

quently  it  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  regular  traffic 
of  the  state. 

"That  is  what  I  came  out  to  see,"  said  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar.  "She  will  make  me  well.  My 
father,  the  Maharajah,  said  so.  I  am  not  well 
now."  He  turned  imperiously  to  a  favorite  groom 
at  the  back  of  the  carriage.  "Soor  Singh,"  —  he 
spoke  in  the  vernacular,  —  "  what  is  it  when  I  be- 
come without  sense?  I  have  forgotten  the  Eng- 
lish." The  groom  leaned  forward. 

"Heaven-born,  I  do  not  remember,"  he  said. 

"Now  I  remember,"  said  the  child,  suddenly. 
"Mrs.  Estes  says  it  is  fits.  What  are  fits?" 

Tarvin  put  his  hand  tenderly  on  the  child's 
shoulder,  but  his  eyes  were  following  the  dust- 
cloud.  "Let  us  hope  she'll  cure  them,  anyway, 
young  un,  whatever  they  are.  But  who  is  she?" 

"  I  do  not  know  the  name,  but  she  will  make  me 
well.  See !  My  father  has  sent  a  carriage  to  meet 
her." 

An  empty  barouche  was  drawn  up  by  the  side 
of  the  road  as  the  rickety,  straining  mailcart  drew 
nearer,  with  frantic  blasts  upon  a  battered  key- 
bugle. 

"It's  better  than  a  bullock-cart,  anyway,"  said 
Tarvin  to  himself,  standing  up  in  the  carriage,  for 
he  was  beginning  to  choke. 


A  STOBY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  113 

"Young  man,  don't  you  know  who  she  is?"  he 
asked  huskily  again. 

"She  was  sent,"  said  the  Maharaj  Kunwar. 

"Her  name's  Kate,"  said  Tarvin  in  his  throat, 
"and  don't  you  forget  it."  Then  to  himself  in 
a  contented  whisper,  "Kate!" 

The  child  waved  his  hand  to  his  escort,  who, 
dividing,  lined  each  side  of  the  road,  with  all  the 
ragged  bravery  of  irregular  cavalry.  The  mail- 
carriage  halted,  and  Kate,  crumpled  dusty,  di- 
shevelled from  her  long  journey,  and  red-eyed  from 
lack  of  sleep,  drew  back  the  shutters  of  the 
palanquin-like  carriage,  and  stepped  dazed  into 
the  road.  Her  numbed  limbs  would  have  doubled 
under  her,  but  Tarvin,  leaping  from  the  barouche, 
caught  her  to  him,  regardless  of  the  escort  and  of 
the  calm-eyed  child  in  the  golden  drapery,  who  was 
shouting,  "  Kate !  Kate !  " 

"Run  along  home,  bub,"  said  Tarvin.  "Well, 
Kate?" 

But  Kate  had  only  her  tears  for  him  and  a  gasping 
"You!  Youl 


114  THE  NATJLAHEJL. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

We  meet  in  an  evil  land 
That  is  near  to  the  gates  of  Hell ; 

I  wait  for  thy  command 

To  serve,  to  speed,  or  withstand, 
And  thou  sayest  I  do  not  well  ? 

Oh  love,  the  flowers  so  red 

Be  only  blossoms  of  flame, 
The  earth  is  full  of  the  dead, 
The  new-killed,  restless  dead. 
There  is  danger  beneath  and  o'erhead, 
And  I  guard  at  thy  gates  in  fear 

Of  peril  and  jeopardy, 
Of  words  thou  canst  not  hear, 

Of  signs  thou  canst  not  see  — 
And  thou  sayest  'tis  ill  that  I  came  ?  * 

In  Shadowland. 

TEARS  stood  again  in  Kate's  eyes  as  she  uncoiled 
her  hair  before  the  mirror  in  the  room  Mrs.  Estes 
had  prepared  against  her  coming  —  tears  of  vexation. 
It  was  an  old  story  with  her  that  the  world  wants 
nothing  done  for  it,  and  visits  with  displeasure 
those  who  must  prod  up  its  lazy  content.  But  in 
landing  at  Bombay  she  had  supposed  herself  at  the 
end  of  outside  hindrances  and  obstacles;  what  Was 
*  Copjrrif  hi,  1899,  by  lUcmlllu  fc  Co. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  115 

now  to  come  would  belong  to  the  wholesome  diffi- 
culties of  real  work.     And  here  was  Nick! 

She  had  made  the  journey  from  Topaz  in  a  long 
mood  of  exaltation.  She  was  launched;  it  made 
her  giddy  and  happy,  like  the  boy's  first  taste  of 
the  life  of  men.  She  was  free  at  last.  No  one 
could  stop  her.  Nothing  could  keep  her  from  the 
life  to  which  she  had  promised  herself.  A  little 
moment  and  she  might  stretch  forth  her  hand  and 
lay  it  fast  upon  her  work.  A  few  days  and  she 
should  stoop  eye  to  eye  above  the  pain  that  had 
called  to  her  across  seas.  In  her  dreams  piteous 
hands  of  women  were  raised  in  prayer  to  her,  and 
moist,  sick  palms  were  laid  in  hers.  The  steady 
urge  of  the  ship  was  too  slow  for  her ;  she  counted 
the  throbs  of  the  screw.  Standing  far  in  the  prow, 
with  wind-blown  hair,  straining  her  eyes  toward 
India,  her  spirit  went  longingly  forth  toward  those 
to  whom  she  was  going;  and  her  life  seemed  to 
release  itself  from  her,  and  sped  far,  far  over  the 
waves,  until  it  reached  them  and  gave  itself  to  them. 
For  a  moment,  as  she  set  foot  on  land,  she  trembled 
with  a  revulsion  of  feeling.  She  drew  near  her 
work;  but  was  it  for  her?  This  old  fear,  which 
had  gone  doubtfully  with  her  purpose  from  the 
beginning,  she  put  behind  her  with  a  stern  refusal 
to  question  there.  She  was  for  so  much  of  her 
work  as  Heaven  would  let  her  do;  and  she  went 


116  THE  NAULAHKA. 

forward  with  a  new,  strong,  humble  impulse  of 
devotion  filling  and  uplifting  her. 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  she  stepped  out  of  the 
coach  at  Rhatore  into  Tarvin's  arms. 

She  did  justice  to  the  kindness  that  had  brought 
him  over  all  these  leagues,  but  she  heartily  wished 
that  he  had  not  come.  The  existence  of  a  man  who 
loved  her,  and  for  whom  she  could  do  nothing,  was 
a  sad  and  troubling  fact  enough  fourteen  thousand 
miles  away.  Face  to  face  with  it,  alone  in  India, 
it  enlarged  itself  unbearably,  and  thrust  itself 
between  her  and  all  her  hopes  of  bringing  serious 
help  to  others.  Love  literally  did  not  seem  to  her 
the  most  important  thing  in  the  world  at  that 
moment,  and  something  else  did;  but  that  didn't 
make  Nick's  trouble  unimportant,  or  prevent  it, 
while  she  braided  her  hair,  from  getting  in  the  way 
of  her  thoughts.  On  the  morrow  she  was  to  enter 
upon  the  life  which  she  meant  should  be  a  help  to 
those  whom  it  could  reach,  and  here  she  was 
thinking  of  Nicholas  Tarvin. 

It  was  because  she  foresaw  that  she  would  keep 
on  thinking  of  him  that  she  wished  him  away.  He 
was  the  tourist  wandering  about  behind  the  devotee 
in  the  cathedral  at  prayers ;  he  was  the  other  thought. 
In  his  person  he  represented  and  symbolized  the  life 
she  had  left  behind;  much  worse,  he  represented 
a  pain  she  could  not  heal.  It  was  not  with  the 


A   STOUT  OF  WEST   AND  EAST.  117 

haunting  figure  of  love  attendant  that  one  carried 
out  large  purposes.  Nor  was  it  with  a  divided 
mind  that  men  conquered  cities.  The  intent  with 
which  she  was  aflame  needed  all  of  her.  She  could 
not  divide  herself  even  with  Nick.  And  yet  it  was 
good  of  him  to  come,  and  like  him.  She  knew 
that  he  had  not  come  merely  in  pursuit  of  a  selfish 
hope;  it  was  as  he  had  said  —  he  couldn't  sleep 
nights,  knowing  what  might  befall  her.  That  was 
really  good  of  him. 

Mrs.  Estes  had  invited  Tarvin  to  breakfast  the 
day  before,  when  Kate  was  not  expected;  but  Tarvin 
was  not  the  man  to  decline  an  invitation  at  the 
last  moment  on  that  account,  and  he  faced  Kate 
across  the  breakfast-table  next  morning  with  a 
smile  which  evoked  an  unwilling  smile  from  her. 
In  spite  of  a  sleepless  night  she  was  looking  very 
fresh  and  pretty  in  the  white  muslin  frock  which 
had  replaced  her  travelling-dress,  and  when  he 
found  himself  alone  with  her  after  breakfast  on 
the  veranda  (Mrs.  Estes  having  gone  to  look  after 
the  morning  affairs  of  a  housekeeper,  and  Estes 
having  betaken  himself  to  his  mission-school,  inside 
the  city  walls),  he  began  to  make  her  his  com- 
pliments upon  the  cool  white,  unknown  to  the 
West.  But  Kate  stopped  him. 

"Nick,"  she  said,  facing  him,  "will  you  do  some- 
thing for  me?" 


118  THE  NAULAHKJL. 

Seeing  her  much  in  earnest,  Tarvin  attempted  the 
parry  humorous;  but  she  broke  in: 

"No;  it  is  something  I  want  very  much,  Nick. 
Will  you  do  it  for  me?" 

"Is  there  anything  I  wouldn't  do  for  you?"  he 
asked  seriously. 

"I  don't  know;  this,  perhaps.  But  you  must 
do  it." 

"What  ig  it?" 

"Go  away." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"But  you  must." 

"Listen,  Kate,"  said  Tarvin,  thrusting  his  hands 
deep  into  the  big  pockets  of  his  white  coat.  "I 
can't.  You  don't  know  the  place  you've  come  to. 
Ask  me  the  same  question  a  week  hence.  I  won't 
agree  to  go.  But  I'll  agree  to  talk  it  over  with  you 
then." 

"I  know  now  everything  that  counts,"  she 
answered.  "I  want  to  do  what  I've  come  here 
for.  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  do  it  if  you  stay.  You 
understand,  don't  you,  Nick?  Nothing  can  change 
that." 

"Yes,  it  can.     /can.     I'll  behave." 

"You  needn't  tell  me  you'll  be  kind.  I  know  it. 
But  even  you  can't  be  kind  enough  to  help  hinder- 
ing me.  Believe  that,  now,  Nick,  and  go.  I* 
isn't  that  I  want  you  to  go,  you  know." 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  BAST.  119 

"Oh!"  observed  Tarvin,  with  a  smile. 

"Well  — you  know  what  I  mean,"  returned  Kate, 
her  face  unrelaxed. 

"Yes;  I  know.  But  if  I'm  good  it  won't  matter. 
I  know  that  too.  You'll  see,"  he  said  gently. 
"Awful  journey,  isn't  it?" 

"You  promised  me  not  to  take  it." 

"I  didn't  take  it,"  returned  Tarvin,  smiling, 
and  spreading  a  seat  for  her  in  the  hammock,  while 
he  took  one  of  the  deep  veranda  chairs  himself. 
He  crossed  his  legs  and  fixed  the  white  pith  helmet 
he  had  lately  adopted  on  his  knee.  "  I  came  round 
the  other  way  on  purpose." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Kate,  dropping 
tentatively  into  the  hammock. 

"San  Francisco  and  Yokohama,  of  course.  You 
told  me  not  to  follow  you." 

"Nick!"  She  gathered  into  the  single  syllable 
the  reproach  and  reproof,  the  liking  and  despair, 
with  which  the  least  and  the  greatest  of  his 
audacities  alike  affected  her. 

Tarvin  had  nothing  to  say  for  once,  and  in  the 
pause  that  fell  she  had  time  to  reassure  herself  of 
her  abhorrence  of  his  presence  here,  and  time  to 
still  the  impulse  of  pride,  which  told  her  that  it  was 
good  to  be  followed  over  half  the  earth's  girdle  for 
love,  and  the  impulse  of  admiration  for  that  fine 
devotion  —  time,  above  all,  —  for  this  was  worst  and 


120  THE  NAULAHKA. 

most  shameful,  —  to  scorn  the  sense  of  loneliness 
and  far-awayness  that  came  rolling  in  on  her  out  of 
the  desert  like  a  cloud,  and  made  the  protecting  and 
homelike  presence  of  the  man  she  had  known  in  the 
other  life  seem  for  a  moment  sweet  and  desirable. 

"Come,  Kate,  you  didn't  expect  me  to  stay  at 
home,  and  let  you  find  your  way  out  here  to  take 
the  chances  of  this  old  sand-heap,  did  you?  It 
would  be  a  cold  day  when  I  let  you  come  to  Gokral 
Seetarun  all  by  your  lone,  little  girl  —  freezing  cold, 
I've  thought  since  I've  been  here,  and  seen  what 
sort  of  camp  it  is." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  coming?" 

"You  didn't  seem  particularly  interested  in  what 
I  did,  when  I  last  saw  you." 

"Nick!  I  didn't  want  you  to  come  here,  and  I 
had  to  come  myself." 

"Well,  you've  come.  I  hope  you'll  like  it," 
said  he,  grimly. 

"Is  it  so  bad?"  she  asked.  "Not  that  I  shall 
mind." 

"Bad!     Do  you  remember  Mastodon?" 

Mastodon  was  one  of  those  Western  town,.  "*vhich 
have  their  future  behind  them  —  a  city  withou.  ^n 
inhabitant,  abandoned  and  desolate. 

"Take  Mastodon  for  deadness,  and  fill  it  with 
ten  Leadvilles  for  wickedness,  —  Leadville  the  first 
year,  —and  you've  got  a  tenth  of  it.*' 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  121 

He  went  on  to  offer  her  an  exposition  of  the 
history,  politics,  and  society  of  Gokral  Seetarun, 
from  his  own  point  of  view,  dealing  with  the  dead 
East  from  the  standpoint  of  the  living  West,  and 
dealing  with  it  vividly.  It  was  a  burning  theme, 
and  it  was  a  happiness  to  him  to  have  a  listener 
who  could  understand  his  attitude,  even  if  she 
could  not  entirely  sj'mpathize  with  it.  His  tone 
besought  her  to  laugh  at  it  with  him  a  little,  if 
only  a  little,  and  Kate  consented  to  laugh;  but  she 
said  it  all  seemed  to  her  more  mournful  than  amus- 
ing. 

Tarvin  could  agree  to  this  readily  enough,  but 
he  told  her  that  he  laughed  to  avoid  weeping.  It 
made  him  tired  to  see  the  fixedness,  the  apathy, 
and  lifelessness  of  this  rich  and  populous  world, 
which  should  be  up  and  stirring  by  rights  —  trad- 
ing, organizing,  inventing,  building  new  towns, 
making  the  old  ones  keep  up  with  the  procession, 
laying  new  railroads,  going  in  for  fresh  enterprises, 
and  keeping  things  humming. 

"They've  got  resources  enough,"  he  said.  "It 
isn't  as  if  they  had  the  excuse  that  the  country's 
poor.  It's  a  good  country.  Move  the  population 
of  a  lively  Colorado  town  to  Rhatore,  set  up  a 
good  local  paper,  organize  a  board  of  trade,  and  let 
the  world  know  what  there  is  here,  and  we'd  have 
a  boom  in  six  months  that  would  shake  the  empire. 


122  THE   NATJLAHKA. 

But  what's  the  use  ?  They're  dead.  They're  mum- 
mies. They're  wooden  images.  There  isn't  enough 
real,  old-fashioned  downright  rustle  and  razzle- 
dazzle  and  'git  up  and  git*  in  Gokral  Seetarun  to 
run  a  milk-cart." 

"Yes,  yes;"  she  murmured,  half  to  herself,  with 
illumined  eyes.  "It's  for  that  I've  come." 

"How's  that?" 

"Because  they  are  not  like  us,"  she  answered, 
turning  her  lustrous  face  on  him.  "If  they  were 
clever,  if  they  were  wise,  what  could  we  do  for 
them?  It  is  because  they  are  lost,  stumbling, 
foolish  creatures  that  they  need  us."  She  heaved 
a  deep  sigh.  "It  is  good  to  be  here." 

"It's  good  to  have  you,"  said  Tarvin. 

She  started. 

"Don't  say  such  things  any  more,  please,  Nick," 
she  said. 

"Oh,  well!"  he  groaned. 

"But  it's  this  way,  Nick,"  she  said  earnestly, 
but  kindly.  "I  don't  belong  to  such  things  any 
more  —  not  even  to  the  possibility  of  them.  Think 
of  me  as  a  nun.  Think  of  me  as  having  renounced 
all  such  happiness,  and  all  other  kinds  of  happiness 
but  my  work." 

"H'm.  May  I  smoke  ?"  At  her  nod  he  lighted 
a  cigar.  "I'm  glad  I'm  here  for  the  ceremony." 

"What  ceremony?"  she  asked. 


A  BTOEY  OF   WIST  AND  EAST.  123 

"  String  you  take  the  veil.  But  you  won't  take 
it." 

"Why  not?" 

He  grumbled  inarticulately  over  his  cigar  a 
moment.  Then  he  looked  up.  "Because  I've  got 
big  wealth  that  says  you  won't.  I  know  you,  I 
know  Rhatore,  and  I  know  — " 

"What?     Who?" 

"Myself,"  he  said,  looking  up. 

She  clasped  her  hands  in  her  lap.  "Nick,"  she 
said,  leaning  toward  him,  "you  know  I  like  you. 
I  like  you  too  well  to  let  you  go  on  thinking  — 
You  talk  of  not  being  able  to  sleep.  How  do  you 
suppose  I  can  sleep  with  the  thought  always  by  me 
that  you  are  laying  up  a  pain  and  disappointment 
for  yourself  —  one  that  I  can't  help,  unless  I  can 
help  it  by  begging  you  to  go  away  now.  I  do  beg 
it.  Please  go  I" 

Tarvin  pulled  at  his  cigar  musingly  for  some 
seconds.  "Dear  girl,  I'm  not  afraid." 

She  sighed,  and  turned  her  face  away  toward  the 
desert.  "I  wish  you  were,"  she  said  hopelessly. 

"Fear  is  not  for  legislators,"  he  retorted  ora- 
cularly. 

She  turned  back  to  him  with  a  sudden  motion. 
*  Legislators !  O  Nick,  are  you  —  " 

**I'm  afraid  I  am  —  by  a  majority  of  1518."  He 
handed  her  the  cable-despatch. 


124  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Poor  father!" 

"Well,  I  don't  know." 

"Oli!     Well,  I  congratulate  you,  of  course. 

"Thanks." 

"But  I'm  not  sure  it  will  be  a  good  thing  for 
you." 

"Yes;  that's  the  way  it  had  struck  me.  If  I 
spend  my  whole  term  out  here,  like  as  not  my 
constituents  won't  be  in  a  mood  to  advance  my 
political  career  when  I  get  back." 

"All  the  more  reason  —  " 

"No;  the  more  reason  for  fixing  the  real  thing 
first.  I  can  make  myself  solid  in  politics  any  time. 
But  there  isn't  but  one  time  to  make  myself  solid 
with  you,  Kate.  It's  here.  It's  now."  He  rose 
and  bent  over  her.  "  Do  you  think  I  can  postpone 
that,  dear?  I  can  adjourn  it  from  day  to  day,  and 
I  do  cheerfully,  and  you  sha'n't  hear  any  more  of  it 
until  you're  ready  to.  But  you  like  me,  Kate.  I 
know  that.  And  I  —  well,  I  like  you.  There  isn't 
but  one  end  to  that  sort  of  thing."  He  took  her 
hand.  "Good  by.  I'll  come  and  take  you  for  a 
look  at  the  city  to-morrow." 

Kate  gazed  long  after  his  retreating  figure,  and 
then  took  herself  into  the  house,  where  a  warm, 
healthful  chat  with  Mrs.  Estes,  chiefly  about  the 
children  at  Bangor,  helped  her  to  a  sane  view  of 
the  situation  she  must  face  with  the  reappearance 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  125 

of  Tarvin.  She  saw  that  he  meant  to  stay,  and  if 
she  didn't  mean  to  go,  it  was  for  her  to  find  the 
brave  way  of  adjusting  the  fact  to  her  hopes.  His 
perversity  complicated  an  undertaking  which  she 
had  never  expected  to  find  simple  in  itself;  and  it 
was  finally  only  because  she  trusted  all  that  he 
said  implicitly  that  she  was  able  to  stay  herself 
upon  his  promise  to  "behave."  Liberally  inter- 
preted, this  really  meant  much  from  Tarvin;  per- 
haps it  meant  all  that  she  need  ask. 

When  all  was  said,  there  remained  the  impulse 
to  flight;  but  she  was  ashamed  to  find,  when  he 
came  in  the  morning,  that  a  formidable  pang  of 
homesickness  drew  her  toward  him,  and  made  his 
definite  and  cheerful  presence  a  welcome  sight. 
Mrs.  Estes  had  been  kind.  The  two  women  had 
made  friends,  and  found  each  other's  hearts  with 
instant  sympathy.  But  a  home  face  was  different, 
and  perhaps  Nick's  was  even  more  different.  At 
all  events,  she  willingly  let  him  carry  out  his 
plan  of  showing  her  the  city. 

In  their  walk  about  it  Tarvin  did  not  spare  her 
the  advantage  of  his  ten  days'  residence  in  Rhatore 
preceding  her  coming;  he  made  himself  her  guide, 
and  stood  on  rocks  overlooking  things,  and  spouted 
his  second-hand  history  with  an  assurance  that  the 
oldest  Political  Resident  might  have  envied.  He 
was  interested  in  the  problems  of  the  state,  if  not 


126  THE  NAULAHKA. 

responsible  for  their  solution.  Was  he  not  a  mem- 
ber of  a  governing  body?  His  ceaseless  and  fruit- 
ful curiosity  about  all  new  things  had  furnished 
him,  in  ten  days,  with  much  learning  about 
Rhatore  and  Gokral  Seetarun,  enabling  him  to  show 
to  Kate,  with  eyes  scarcely  less  fresh  than  her  own, 
the  wonders  of  the  narrow,  sand-choked  streets, 
where  the  footfalls  of  camels  and  men  alike  fell 
dead.  They  lingered  by  the  royal  menagerie  of 
starved  tigers,  and  the  cages  of  the  two  tame 
hunting-leopards,  hooded  like  hawks,  that  slept, 
and  yawned,  and  scratched  on  their  two  bedsteads 
by  the  main  gate  of  the  city;  and  he  showed  her 
the  ponderous  door  of  the  great  gate  itself,  studded 
with  foot-long  spikes  against  the  attacks  of  that 
living  battering-ram,  the  elephant.  He  led  her 
through  the  long  lines  of  dark  shops  planted  in  and 
among  the  ruins  of  palaces,  whose  builders  had 
been  long  since  forgotten,  and  about  the  straggling; 
barracks,  past  knots  of  fantastically  attired  soldiers, 
who  hung  their  day's  marketing  from  the  muzzle* 
of  the  Brown  Bess  or  flint-lock ;  and  then  he  showed 
her  the  mausoleum  of  the  kings  of  Gokral  Seetarun, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  great  temple  where  the 
children  of  the  sun  and  moon  went  to  worship,  and 
where  the  smooth,  black  stone  bull  glared  across1 
the  main  square  at  the  cheap  bronze  statue  oi 
Colonel  Nolan's  predecessor  —  an  offensively  ener* 


A  STORY   OF   WEST  AND   BAST.  127 

getie  and  very  plain  Yorkshireman.  Lastly,  they 
found  beyond  the  walls  the  clamoring  caravansary 
of  traders  by  the  gateway  of  the  Three  Gods,  whence 
tthe  caravans  of  camels  filed  out  with  their  burdens 
of  glistening  rock-salt  for  the  railroad,  and  where 
'by  day  and  by  night  cloaked  and  jawbound  riders 
'of  the  desert,  speaking  a  tongue  that  none  could 
understand,  rode  in  from  God  knows  what  fastness 
'beyond  the  white  hillocks  of  Jeysulmir. 

As  they  went  along,  Tarvin  asked  her  about 
'Topaz.  How  had  she  left  it?  How  was  the  dear 
old  town  looking?  Kate  said  she  had  left  it  only 
tthree  days  after  his  departure. 

"  Three  days !  Three  days  is  a  long  time  in  the 
life  of  a  growing  town." 

Kate  smiled.  "I  didn't  see  any  changes,"  she 
said. 

"  No  ?  Peters  was  talking  about  breaking  ground 
tfor  his  new  brick  saloon  on  G  street  the  day  after 
II  left;  Parsons  was  getting  in  a  new  dynamo  for 
tthe  city's  electric-light  plant;  they  were  just  get- 
tting  to  work  on  the  grading  of  Massachusetts 
Avenue,  and  they  had  planted  the  first  tree  in  my 
twenty-acre  plot.  Kearney,  the  druggist,  was  put- 
ting in  a  plate-glass  window,  and  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  Maxim  had  got  his  new  post-office  boxes 
tfrom  Meriden  before  you  left.  Didn't  you  notice  ?  " 

Kate  shook  her  head.  "  I  was  thinking  of  some- 
tthing  else  just  then." 


128  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Pshaw I  I'd  like  to  know.  But  no  matter.  I 
suppose  it  is  asking  too  much  to  expect  a  woman 
to  play  her  own  hand,  and  keep  the  run  of  im- 
provements in  the  town,"  he  mused.  "Women 
aren't  built  that  way.  And  yet  I  used  to  run  a 
political  canvass  and  a  business  or  two,  and  some- 
thing else  in  that  town."  He  glanced  humorously 
at  Kate,  who  lifted  a  warning  hand.  "Forbidden 
subject?  All  right.  I  will  be  good.  But  they 
had  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning  to  do  anything 
to  it  without  letting  me  into  it.  What  did  your 
father  and  mother  say  at  the  last?" 

"Don't  speak  of  that,"  begged  Kate. 

"Well,  I  won't." 

"  I  wake  up  at  night,  and  think  of  mother.  It's 
dreadful.  At  the  last  I  suppose  I  should  have 
stayed  behind  and  shirked  if  some  one  had  said 
the  right  word  —  or  the  wrong  one  —  as  I  got  on 
board  the  train,  and  waved  my  handkerchief  to 
them." 

"Good  heaven!    Why  didn't  I  stay!  "  he  groaned. 

"You  couldn't  have  said  it,  Nick,"  she  told  him 
quietly. 

"You  mean  your  father  could.  Of  course  he 
could,  and  if  he  had  happened  to  be  some  one  else 
he  would.  When  I  think  of  that  I  want  to  —  ! " 

"Don't  say  anything  against  father,  please,"  she 
said,  with  a  tightening  of  the  lips. 


A  STOEY  OF    WEST  AND  BAST.  129 

"O  dear  child!"  he  murmured  contritely,  "I 
didn't  mean  that.  But  I  have  to  say  something 
against  somebody.  Give  me  somebody  to  curse, 
and  I'll  be  quiet." 

"Nick!" 

"Well,  I'm  not  a  block  of  "wood,"  he  growled. 

"No;  you  are  only  a  very  foolish  man." 

Tarvin  smiled.     "Now  you're  shouting." 

She  asked  him  about  the  Maharaj  Kunwar  to 
change  the  subject,  and  Tarvin  told  her  that  he 
was  a  little  brick.  But  he  added  that  the  society 
of  Rhatore  wasn't  all  as  good. 

"  You  ought  to  see  Sitabhai !  " 

He  went  on  to  tell  her  about  the  Maharajah  and 
the  people  of  the  palace  with  whom  she  would 
come  in  contact.  They  talked  of  the  strange  min- 
gling of  impassiveness  and  childishness  in  the  peo- 
ple, which  had  already  impressed  Kate,  and  spoke 
of  their  primitive  passions  and  simple  ideas  — 
simple  as  the  massive  strength  of  the  Orient  is 
simple. 

"They  aren't  what  we  should  call  cultured. 
They  don't  know  Ibsen  a  little  bit,  and  they  don't 
go  in  for  Tolstoi  for  sour  apples,"  said  Tarvin,  who 
did  not  read  three  newspapers  a  day  at  Topaz  for 
nothing.  "If  they  really  knew  the  modern  young 
woman,  I  suppose  her  life  wouldn't  be  worth  an 
hour's  purchase.  But  they've  got  some  rattling 


130  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

good  old-fashioned  ideas,  all  the  same  —  the  sort  1 
used  to  hear  once  upon  a  time  at  my  dear  old 
mother's  knee,  away  back  in  the  state  of  Maine. 
Mother  believed  in  marriage,  you  know ;  and  that's 
where  she  agreed  with  me  and  with  the  fine  old- 
style  natives  of  India.  The  venerable,  ramshackle, 
tumble-down  institution  of  matrimony  is  still  in 
use  here,  you  know." 

"But  I  never  said  I  sympathized  with  Nora, 
Nick,"  exclaimed  Kate,  leaping  all  the  chasms  of 
connection. 

"Well,  then,  that's  where  you  are  solid  with 
the  Indian  Empire.  The  'Doll's  House '  glanced 
right  off  this  blessed  old-timey  country.  You 
wouldn't  know  where  it  had  been  hit." 

"But  I  don't  agree  with  all  your  ideas  either," 
she  felt  bound  to  add. 

"I  can  think  of  one,"  retorted  Tarvin,  with  a 
shrewd  smile.  "But  I'll  convert  you  to  my  views 
there." 

Kate  stopped  short  in  the  street  along  which  they 
were  walking.  "I  trusted  you,  Nick!"  she  said 
reproachfully. 

He  stopped,  and  gazed  ruefully  at  her  for  a 
moment.  "OLord!"  he  groaned.  "I  trusted  my- 
self! But  I'm  always  thinking  of  it.  What  can 
you  expect?  But  I  tell  you  what,  Kate,  this  shall 
be  the  end  —  last,  final,  ultimate.  I'm  done. 


A  STOBY  OF  WEST  AKD  EAST.  131 

From  this  out  I'm  a  reformed  man.  I  don't  prom- 
ise not  to  think,  and  I'll  have  to  go  on  feeling, 
just  the  same,  but  I'll  be  quiet.  Shake  on  it."  He 
offered  his  hand,  and  Kate  took  it. 

They  walked  on  for  some  moments  in  silence 
until  Tarvin  said  mournfully,  "You  didn't  see 
Heckler  just  before  you  came  away,  did  you?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No;  Jim  and  you  never  did  get  along  much 
together.  But  I  wish  I  knew  what  he's  thinking 
about  me.  Didn't  hear  any  rumor,  any  report, 
going  around  about  what  had  become  of  me,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"They  thought  in  town  that  you  had  gone  to 
San  Francisco  to  see  some  of  the  Western  directors 
of  the  Colorado  and  California  Central,  I  think. 
They  thought  that  because  the  conductor  of  your 
train  brought  back  word  that  you  said  you  were 
going  to  Alaska,  and  they  didn't  believe  that.  I 
wish  you  had  a  better  reputation  for  truth-telling  at 
Topaz,  Nick." 

"So  do  I,  Kate;  so  do  I,"  exclaimed  Tarvin 
heartily.  "But  if  I  had,  how  would  I  ever  get 
the  right  thing  believed?  That's  just  what  I 
wanted  them  to  think  —  that  I  was  looking  after 
their  interests.  But  where  would  I  be  if  I  had 
sent  that  story  back?  They  would  have  had  me 
working  a  land-grab  in  Chile  before  night.  That 


132  THE  NAULAHKA. 

reminds  me  —  don't  mention  that  I'm  here  in  writ- 
ing home,  please.  Perhaps  they'll  figure  that  out, 
too,  by  the  rule  of  contraries,  if  I  give  them  the 
chance.  But  I  don't  want  to  give  them  the  chance." 

"I'm  not  likely  to  mention  it,"  said  Kate, 
flushing. 

A  moment  later  she  recurred  to  the  subject  of 
her  mother.  In  the  yearning  for  home  that  came 
upon  her  anew  in  the  midst  of  all  the  strangeness 
through  which  Tarvin  was  taking  her,  the  thought 
of  her  mother,  patient,  alone,  looking  for  some 
word  from  her,  hurt  her  as  if  for  the  first  time. 
The  memory  was  for  the  moment  intolerable  to 
her;  but  when  Tarvin  asked  her  why  she  had  come 
at  all  if  she  felt  that  way,  she  answered  with  the 
courage  of  better  moments:  "Why  do  men  go  to 
war?" 

Kate  saw  little  of  Tarvin  during  the  next  few 
days.  Mrs.  Estes  made  her  known  at  the  palace, 
and  she  had  plenty  to  occupy  her  mind  and  heart. 
There  she  stepped  bewilderedly  into  a  land  where 
it  was  always  twilight  —  a  labyrinth  of  passages, 
court-yards,  stairs,  and  hidden  ways,  all  overflow- 
ing with  veiled  women,  who  peered  at  her  and 
laughed  behind  her  back,  or  childishly  examined 
her  dress,  her  helmet,  and  her  gloves.  It  seemed 
impossible  that  she  should  ever  know  the  smallest 
part  of  the  vast  warren,  or  distinguish  one  pale 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND   EAST.  133 

face  from  another  in  the  gloom,  as  the  women  led 
her  through  long  lines  of  lonely  chambers  where 
the  wind  sighed  alone  under  the  glittering  ceilings, 
to  hanging  gardens  two  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  ground,  but  still  jealously  guarded  by 
high  walls,  and  down  again,  by  interminable  stair- 
ways, from  the  glare  and  the  blue  of  the  flat  roofs 
to  silent  subterranean  chambers  hewn  against  the 
heat  of  the  summer  sixty  feet  into  the  heart  of  the 
living  rock.  At  every  step  she  found  women  and 
children,  and  yet  more  women  and  children.  The 
palace  was  reported  to  hold  within  its  walls  four 
thousand  living,  and  no  man  knew  how  many 
buried,  dead. 

There  were  many  women, — how  many  she  did 
not  know, — worked  upon  by  intrigues  she  could 
not  comprehend,  who  refused  her  ministrations 
absolutely.  They  were  not  ill,  they  said,  and  the 
touch  of  the  white  woman  meant  pollution.  Others 
there  were  who  thrust  their  children  before  her 
and  bade  her  bring  color  and  strength  back  to  these 
pale  buds  born  in  the  darkness;  and  terrible,  fierce- 
eyed  girls  who  leaped  upon  her  out  of  the  dark, 
overwhelming  her  with  passionate  complaints  that 
she  did  not  and  dared  not  understand.  Monstrous 
and  obscene  pictures  glared  at  her  from  the  walls 
of  the  little  rooms,  and  the  images  of  shameless 
gods  mocked  her  from  their  greasy  niches  above 


134  THE  NATTLAHKA. 

the  doorways.  The  heat  and  the  smell  of  cooking, 
faint  fumes  of  incense,  and  the  indescribable  taint 
of  overcrowded  humanity,  caught  her  by  the  throat. 
But  what  she  heard  and  what  she  guessed  sickened 
her  more  than  any  visible  horror.  Plainly  it  was 
one  thing  to  be  stirred  to  generous  action  by  a 
vivid  recital  of  the  state  of  the  women  of  India, 
another  to  face  the  unutterable  fact  in  the  isolation 
of  the  women's  apartments  of  the  palace  of  Rhatore. 

Tarvin  meanwhile  was  going  about  spying  out 
the  land  on  a  system  which  he  had  contrived  for 
himself.  It  was  conducted  on  the  principle  of 
exhaustion  of  the  possibilities  in  the  order  of  their 
importance  —  every  movement  which  he  made  hav- 
ing the  directest,  though  not  always  the  most 
obvious,  relation  to  the  Naulahka. 

He  was  free  to  come  and  go  through  the  royal 
gardens,  where  innumerable  and  very  seldom  paid 
gardeners  fought  with  water-skin  and  well-wheel 
against  the  destroying  heat  of  the  desert.  He  was 
welcomed  in  the  Maharajah's  stables,  where  eight 
hundred  horses  were  littered  down  nightly,  and 
was  allowed  to  watch  them  go  out  for  their  morn- 
ing exercise,  four  hundred  at  a  time,  in  a  whirl- 
wind of  dust.  In  the  outer  courts  of  the  palace 
it  was  open  to  him  to  come  and  go  as  he  chose  — 
to  watch  the  toilets  of  the  elephants  when  the 
Maharajah  went  out  in  state,  to  laugh  with  the 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND   EAST.  135 

quarter-guard,  and  to  unearth  dragon-headed,  snake- 
throated  pieces  of  artillery,  invented  by  native 
artificers,  who,  here  in  the  East,  had  dreamed  of 
the  mitrailleuse.  But  Kate  could  go  where  he  was 
forbidden  to  venture.  He  knew  the  life  of  a  white 
woman  to  be  as  safe  in  Rhatore  as  in  Topaz;  but 
on  the  first  day  she  disappeared,  untroubled  and 
unquestioning,  behind  the  darkness  of  the  veiled 
door  leading  to  the  apartments  of  the  women  of 
the  palace,  he  found  his  hand  going  instinctively 
to  the  butt  of  his  revolver. 

The  Maharajah  was  an  excellent  friend,  and  no 
bad  hand  at  pachisi;  but  as  Tarvin  sat  opposite 
him,  half  an  hour  later,  he  reflected  that  he  should 
not  recommend  the  Maharajah's  life  for  insurance 
if  anything  happened  to  his  love  while  she  re- 
mained in  those  mysterious  chambers  from  which 
the  only  sign  that  came  to  the  outer  world  was  a 
ceaseless  whispering  and  rustling.  When  Kate 
came  out,  the  little  Maharaj  Kunwar  clinging  to 
her  hand,  her  face  was  white  and  drawn,  and  her 
eyes  full  of  indignant  tears.  She  had  seen. 

Tarvin  hastened  to  her  side,  but  she  put  him 
from  her  with  the  imperious  gesture  that  women 
know  in  deep  moments,  and  fled  to  Mrs.  Estes. 

Tarvin  felt  himself  for  the  moment  rudely  thrust 
out  of  her  life.  The  Maharaj  Kunwar  found  him 
that  evening  pacing  up  and  down  the  veranda  of 


130  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

the  rest-house,  almost  sorry  that  he  had  not  shot 
the  Maharajah  for  bringing  that  look  into  Kate's 
eyes.  With  deep-drawn  breath  he  thanked  his 
God  that  he  was  there  to  watch  and  defend,  and, 
if  need  were,  to  carry  off,  at  the  last,  by  force. 
With  a  shudder  he  fancied  her  here  alone,  save 
for  the  distant  care  of  Mrs.  Estes. 

"I  have  brought  this  for  Kate,"  said  the  child, 
descending  from  his  carriage  cautiously,  with  a 
parcel  that  filled  both  his  arms.  "Come  with  me 
there." 

Nothing  loath,  Tarvin  came,  and  they  drove  over 
to  the  house  of  the  missionary. 

"All  the  people  in  my  palace,"  said  the  child 
as  they  went,  "say  that  she's  your  Kate." 

"I'm  glad  they  know  that  much,"  muttered 
Tarvin  to  himself,  savagely.  "What's  this  you 
have  got  for  her?"  he  asked  the  Maharaj  aloud, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  parcel. 

"It  is  from  my  mother,  the  Queen  —  the  real 
Queen,  you  know,  because  I  am  the  Prince.  There 
is  a  message,  too,  that  I  must  not  tell."  He  began 
to  whisper,  childlike,  to  himself,  to  keep  the  mes- 
sage in  mind. 

Kate  was  in  the  veranda  when  they  arrived,  and 
her  face  brightened  a  little  at  sight  of  the  child. 

"  Tell  my  guard  to  stand  back  out  of  the  garden. 
Go,  and  wait  in  the  road." 


A   STORY   OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  137 

The  carriage  and  troopers  withdrew.  The  child, 
still  holding  Tarvin's  hand,  held  out  the  parcel 
to  Kate. 

"It  is  from  my  mother,"  he  said.  "You  have 
seen  her.  This  man  need  not  go.  He  is "  —  he 
hesitated  a  little  —  "of  your  heart,  is  he  not? 
Your  speech  is  his  speech." 

Kate  flushed,  but  did  not  attempt  to  set  the 
child  right.  What  could  she  say? 

"And  I  am  to  tell  this,"  he  continued,  "first 
before  everything,  till  you  quite  understand."  He 
spoke  hesitatingly,  translating  out  of  his  own  verna- 
cular as  he  went  on,  and  drawing  himself  to  his 
full  height,  as  he  cleared  the  cluster  of  emeralds 
from  his  brow.  "My  mother,  the  Queen, —  the 
real  Queen, —  says,  'I  was  three  months  at  this 
work.  It  is  for  you,  because  I  have  seen  your 
face.  That  which  has  been  made  may  be  unravelled 
against  our  will,  and  a  gypsy's  hands  are  always 
picking.  For  the  love  of  the  gods  look  to  it  that 
a  gypsy  unravels  nothing  that  I  have  made,  for  it 
is  my  life  and  soul  to  me.  Protect  this  work  of 
mine  that  comes  from  me  —  a  cloth  nine  years 
upon  the  loom.'  I  know  more  English  than  my 
mother,"  said  the  child,  dropping  into  his  ordinary 
speech. 

Kate  opened  the  parcel,  and  unrolled  a  crude 
yellow  and  black  comforter,  with  a  violent  crimson 


188  THE  NAULAHKA. 

fringe,  clumsily  knitted.  With  such  labors  the 
queens  of  Gokral  Seetarun  were  wont  to  beguile 
their  leisure. 

"That  is  all,"  said  the  child.  But  he  seemed 
unwilling  to  go.  There  was  a  lump  in  Kate's 
throat,  as  she  handled  the  pitiful  gift.  Without 
warning  the  child,  never  loosening  for  a  moment 
his  grip  on  Tarvin's  hand,  began  to  repeat  the 
message  word  by  word,  his  little  fingers  tighten- 
ing on  Tarvin's  fist  as  he  went  on. 

"Say  I  am  very  grateful  indeed,"  said  Kate,  a 
little  puzzled,  and  not  too  sure  of  her  voice. 

"That  was  not  the  answer,"  said  the  child;  and 
he  looked  appealingly  at  his  tall  friend,  the  new 
Englishman. 

The  idle  talk  of  the  commercial  travellers  in  the 
veranda  of  the  rest-house  flashed  through  Tarvin's 
mind.  He  took  a  quick  pace  forward,  and  laid 
his  hand  on  Kate's  shoulder,  whispering  huskily: 

"Can't  you  see  what  it  means?  It's  the  boy 
—  the  cloth  nine  years  on  the  loom." 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  cried  Kate,   bewildered. 

"Look  after  him.  Keep  on  looking  after  him. 
You  are  quick  enough  in  most  things.  Sitabhai 
wants  his  life.  See  that  she  doesn't  get  it." 

Kate  began  to  understand  a  little.  Everything 
was  possible  in  that  awful  palace,  even  child- 
murder.  She  had  already  guessed  the  hate  that 


A  STOBY   OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  189 

lives  between  childless  and  mother  queens.  The 
Maharaj  Kunwar  stood  motionless  in  the  twiligkc, 
twinkling  in  his  jewelled  robes. 

"Shall  I  say  it  again?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  no,  no,  child !  No !  "  she  cried,  flinging 
herself  on  her  knees  before  him,  and  snatching  his 
little  figure  to  her  breast,  with  a  sudden  access  of 
tenderness  and  pity.  "O  Nick!  what  shall  we  do 
in  this  horrible  country?"  She  began  to  cry. 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  Maharaj,  utterly  unmoved,  "  I  was 
to  go  when  I  saw  that  you  cried."  He  lifted  up 
his  voice  for  the  carriage  and  troopers,  and  departed, 
leaving  the  shabby  comforter  on  the  floor. 

Kate  was  sobbing  in  the  half  darkness.  Neither 
Mrs.  Estes  nor  her  husband  was  within  just  then. 
That  little  "we"  of  hers  went  through  Tarvin  with 
a  sweet  and  tingling  ecstasy.  He  stooped  and 
took  her  in  his  arms,  and  for  that  which  followed 
Kate  did  not  rebuke  him. 

"We'll  pull  through  together,  little  girl,"  he 
whispered  to  the  shaken  head  on  his  shoulder. 


140  THE  NAULAHKA. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Ye  know  the  Hundred  Danger  Time  when  gay  with  paint  and 

flowers, 
Your   household    gods  are   bribed    to   help  the    bitter,  helpless 

hours ;  — 

Ye  know  the  worn  and  rotten  mat  whereon  your  daughter  lies, 
Ye  know  the  Sootak-room  unclean,  the  cell  wherein  she  dies. 

Dies  with  the  babble  in  her  ear  of  midwife's  muttered  charm, 
Dies,  spite  young  life  that  strains  to  stay,  the  suckling  on  her 

arm  — 
Dies  in  the  four-fold  heated  room,  parched  by  the  Birth- Fire's 

breath, 

Foredoomed,  ye  say,  lest  anguish  lack,  to  haunt  her  home  in  death.* 

A  Song  of  the  Women. 

DEAR  FRIEND  :  That  was  very  unkind  of  you,  and  you 
have  made  my  life  harder.  I  know  I  was  weak.  The 
child  upset  me.  But  I  must  do  what  I  came  for,  and  I 
want  you  to  strengthen  me,  Nick,  not  hinder  me.  Don't 
come  for  a  few  days,  please.  I  need  all  I  am  or  hope  to 
be  for  the  work  I  see  opening  here.  I  think  I  can  really 
do  some  good.  Let  me,  please.  —  KATE. 

Tarvin  read  fifty  different  meanings  into  this 
letter,  received  the  following  morning,  and  read 
them  out  again.  At  the  end  of  his  conjectures 

*  Copyright,  1109,  by  Maemiliaa  k  OP. 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  BAST.  141 

he  could  be  sure  only  of  one  thing  —  that  in  spite 
of  that  moment's  weakness,  Kate  was  fixed  upon 
her  path.  He  could  not  yet  prevail  against  her 
steadfast  gentleness,  and  perhaps  it  would  be  better 
not  to  try.  Talks  in  the  veranda,  and  sentinel- 
like  prowlings  about  her  path  when  she  went  to 
the  palace,  were  pleasant  enough,  but  he  had  not 
come  to  Rhatore  to  tell  her  that  he  loved  her. 
Topaz,  in  whose  future  the  other  half  of  his  heart 
was  bound  up,  knew  that  secret  long  ago,  and  — 
Topaz  was  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  Three 
C.'s,  even  as  Nick  was  waiting  on  Kate's  comings 
and  goings.  The  girl  was  unhappy,  overstrained, 
and  despairing,  but  since  —  he  thanked  God  always 
— -he  was  at  hand  to  guard  her  from  the  absolute 
shock  of  evil  fate,  she  might  well  be  left  for  the 
moment  to  Mrs.  Estes's  comfort  and  sympathy. 

She  had  already  accomplished  something  in  the 
guarded  courts  of  the  women's  quarters,  for  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar's  mother  had  intrusted  her  only 
son's  life  to  her  care  (who  could  help  loving  and 
trusting  Kate?);  but  for  his  own  part,  what  had 
he  done  for  Topaz  beyond  —  he  looked  toward  the 
city — playing  pachisi  with  the  Maharajah?  The 
low  morning  sun  flung  the  shadow  of  the  rest- 
house  before  him.  The  commercial  travellers  came 
out  one  by  one,  gazed  at  the  walled  bulk  of  Rhatore, 
and  cursed  it.  Tarvin  mounted  his  horse,  of  which 


142  THB  NAULAHKA. 

much  more  hereafter,  and  ambled  toward  the  city 
to  pay  his  respects  to  the  Maharajah.  It  was 
through  him,  if  through  any  one,  that  he  must 
possess  himself  of  the  Naulahka ;  he  had  been  anx- 
iously studying  him,  and  shrewdly  measuring  the 
situation,  and  he  now  believed  that  he  had  formed 
a  plan  through  which  he  might  hope  to  make  him- 
self solid  with  the  Maharajah  —  a  plan  which, 
whether  it  brought  him  the  Naulahka  or  not, 
would  at  least  allow  him  the  privilege  of  staying 
at  Rhatore.  This  privilege  certain  broad  hints  of 
Colonel  Nolan's  had  seemed  to  Tarvin  of  late 
plainly  to  threaten,  and  it  had  become  clear  to  him 
that  he  must  at  once  acquire  a  practical  and  pub- 
lishable  object  for  his  visit,  if  he  had  to  rip  up 
the  entire  state  to  find  it.  To  stay,  he  must  do 
something  in  particular.  What  he  had  found  to 
do  was  particular  enough ;  it  should  be  done  forth- 
with, and  it  should  bring  him  first  the  Naulahka," 
and  then  —  if  he  was  at  all  the  man  he  took  him- 
self for — Kate  I 

As  he  approached  the  gates  he  saw  Kate,  in  a 
brown  habit,  riding  with  Mrs.  Estes  out  of  the 
missionary's  garden. 

"You  needn't  be  afraid,  dear.  I  sha'n't  bother 
you,"  he  said  to  himself,  smiling  at  the  dust-cloud 
rising  behind  her,  as  he  slackened  his  pace.  "  But 
I  wonder  what's  taking  you  out  so  early." 


A  STORY  OP   WEST   AND   BAST.  143 

The  misery  within  the  palace  walls  which  had 
sent  her  half  weeping  to  Mrs.  Estes  represented 
only  a  phase  of  the  work  for  which  Kate  had  come. 
If  the  wretchedness  was  so  great  under  the  shadow 
of  the  throne,  what  must  the  common  folk  endure  ? 
Kate  was  on  her  way  to  the  hospital. 

"There  is  only  one  native  doctor  at  the  hospi- 
tal," Mrs.  Estes  was  saying,  as  they  went  along, 
"and  of  course  he's  only  a  native;  that  is  to  say, 
he  is  idle." 

"How  can  any  one  be  idle  here?"  her  compan- 
ion cried,  as  the  stored  heat  from  under  the  city 
gates  beat  across  their  temples. 

"Every  one  grows  idle  so  soon  in  Rhatore," 
returned  Mrs.  Estes,  with  a  little  sigh,  thinking 
of  Lucien's  high  hopes  and  strenuous  endeavors, 
long  since  subdued  to  a  mild  apathy. 

Kate  sat  her  horse  with  the  assured  seat  of  a 
Western  girl  who  has  learned  to  ride  and  to  walk 
at  the  same  time.  Her  well-borne  little  figure 
had  advantages  on  horseback.  The  glow  of  resolve 
lighting  her  simply  framed  face  at  the  moment 
lent  it  a  spiritual  beauty;  and  she  was  warmed 
by  the  consciousness  that  she  drew  near  her  purpose 
and  the  goal  of  two  years'  working  and  dreaming. 
As  they  rounded  a  curve  in  the  main  street  of  the 
city,  a  crowd  was  seen  waiting  at  the  foot  of  a 
night  of  red  sandstone  steps  rising  to  the  platform 


144  THE  NAULAHKA. 

of  a  whitewashed  house  three  stories  in  height,  on 
which  appeared  the  sign,  "State  Dispensary."  The 
letters  leaned  against  one  another,  and  drooped 
down  over  each  side  of  the  door. 

A  sense  of  the  unreality  of  it  all  came  over 
Kate  as  she  surveyed  the  crowd  of  women,  clad 
in  vermilion,  dull-red,  indigo,  saffron,  blue,  pink-, 
and  turquoise  garments  of  raw  silk.  Almost  every 
woman  held  a  child  on  her  hip,  and  a  low  wailing 
cry  rose  up  as  Kate  drew  rein.  The  women  clus- 
tered about  her  stirrup,  caught  at  her  foot,  and 
thrust  their  babies  into  her  arms.  She  took  one 
little  one  to  her  breast,  and  hushed  it  tenderly;  it 
was  burnt  and  dry  with  fever. 

"Be  careful,"  said  Mrs.  Estes;  "there  is  small- 
pox in  the  hills  behind  us,  and  these  people  have 
no  notion  of  precautions." 

Kate,  listening  to  the  cry  of  the  women,  did 
not  answer.  A  portly,  white-bearded  native,  in  a 
brown  camel's  hair  dressing-gown  and  patent-leather 
boots,  came  out  of  the  dispensary,  thrusting  the 
women  right  and  left,  and  bowing  profoundly. 

"You  are  new  lady  doctor?"  he  said.  "Hospi- 
tal is  quite  ready  for  inspection.  Stand  back 
from  the  miss  sahib! "  he  shouted  in  the  vernacu- 
lar, as  Kate  slipped  to  the  ground,  and  the  crowd 
closed  about  her.  Mrs.  Estes  remained  in  the 
saddle,  watching  the  scene. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  145 

A  woman  of  the  desert,  very  tall,  gold-colored, 
and  scarlet-lipped,  threw  back  her  face-cloth,  caught 
Rate  by  the  wrist,  and  made  as  if  she  would  drag 
her  away,  crying  aloud  fiercely  i,n  the  vernacular. 
The  trouble  in  her  eyes  was  not  to  be  denied. 
Kate  followed  unresisting,  and,  as  the  crowd 
parted,  saw  a  camel  kneeling  in  the  roadway.  On 
its  back  a  gaunt  skeleton  of  a  man  was  mutter- 
ing, and  picking  aimlessly  at  the  nail-studded 
saddle.  The  woman  drew  herself  up  to  full  height, 
and,  without  a  word,  flung  herself  down  upon  the 
ground,  clasping  Kate's  feet.  Kate  stooped  to  raise 
her,  her  under  lip  quivering,  and  the  doctor  from 
the  steps  shouted  cheerfully: 

"Oh,  that  is  all  right.  He  is  confirmed  luna- 
tic, her  husband.  She  is  always  bringing  him 
here." 

"Have  you  done  nothing,  then?"  cried  Kate, 
turning  on  him  angrily. 

"What  can  do?  She  will  not  leave  him  here 
for  treatment  so  I  may  blister  him." 

"Blister  him  I"  murmured  Kate  to  herself,  ap- 
palled, as  she  caught  the  woman's  hands  and  held 
them  firmly.  "  Tell  her  that  I  say  he  must  be  left 
here,"  she  said  aloud.  The  doctor  conveyed  the 
command.  The  woman  took  a  deep  breath,  and 
stared  at  Kate  under  level  brows  for  a  full  half- 
minute.  Then  she  carried  Kate's  hand  to  the 

L 


146  THE  NAULAHKA. 

man's  forehead,  and  sat  down  in  the  dust,  veiling 
her  head. 

Kate,  dumb  under  these  strange  expressions  of 
the  workings  of  the  Eastern  mind,  stared  at  her 
for  a  moment,  with  an  impulse  of  the  compassion 
which  knows  no  race,  before  she  bent  and  kissed 
her  quietly  on  the  forehead. 

"Carry  this  man  up,"  she  said,  pointing;  and  he 
was  carried  up  the  steps  and  into  the  hospital,  his 
wife  following  like  a  dog.  Once  she  turned  and 
spoke  to  her  sisters  below,  and  there  went  up  a 
little  chorus  of  weeping  and  laughter. 

"She  says,"  said  the  doctor,  beaming,  "that  she 
will  kill  any  one  who  is  impolite  to  you.  Also, 
she  will  be  the  nurse  of  your  son." 

Kate  paused  to  say  a  word  to  Mrs.  Estes,  who 
was  bound  on  an  errand  further  into  the  city;  then 
she  mounted  the  steps  with  the  doctor. 

"Now,  will  you  see  the  hospital?"  he  asked. 
"But  first  let  me  introduce.  I  am  Lalla  Dhunpat 
Rai,  Licentiate  Medicine,  from  the  Duff  College. 
I  was  first  native  my  province  that  took  that 
degree.  That  was  twenty  years  ago." 

Kate  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  "Where  have 
you  been  since?"  she  asked. 

"  Some  time  I  stayed  in  my  father's  house.  Then 
I  was  clerk  in  medical  stores  in  British  India. 
But  his  Highness  have  graciously  given  me  this 
appointment,  which  I  hold  now." 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  147 

Kate  lifted  her  eyebrows.  This,  then,  was  tc 
be  her  colleague.  They  passed  into  the  hospital 
together  in  silence,  Kate  holding  the  skirt  of  her 
riding-habit  clear  of  the  accumulated  grime  of  the 
floor. 

Six  roughly  made  pallets,  laced  with  hide  and 
string,  stood  in  the  filthy  central  court-yard  of  the 
house,  and  on  each  cot  a  man,  swathed  in  a  white 
sheet,  tossed  arid  moaned  and  jabbered.  A  woman 
entered  with  a  pot  full  of  rancid  native  sweet- 
meats, and  tried  vainly  to  make  one  of  the  men 
eat  of  her  delicacies.  In  the  full  glare  of  the 
sunlight  stood  a  young  man  almost  absolutely 
unclothed,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head,  try- 
ing to  outstare  the  sun.  He  began  a  chant,  broke 
off,  and  hurried  from  bed  to  bed,  shouting  to  each 
words  that  Kate  could  not  understand.  Then  he 
returned  to  his  place  in  the  centre,  and  took  up  his 
interrupted  song. 

"He  is  confirmed  lunatic,  also,"  said  the  doctor. 
"I  have  blistered  and  cupped  him  very  severely, 
but  he  will  not  go  away.  He  is  quite  harmless, 
except  when  he  does  not  get  his  opium." 

"Surely  you  don't  allow  the  patients  opium!" 
exclaimed  Kate. 

"  Of  course  I  allow  opium.  Otherwise  they 
would  die.  All  Rajputs  eat  opium." 

"And  you?"  asked  Kate,  with  horror. 


148  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Once  I  did  not  —  when  I  first  came.  But 
no\\r  — "  He  drew  a  smooth-worn  tin  tobacco-box 
from  his  waist,  and  took  from  it  what  appeared 
to  Kate  a  handful  of  opium-pills. 

Despair  was  going  over  her  in  successive  waves. 
"Show  me  the  women's  ward,"  she  said  wearily. 

"Oh,  they  are  all  up-stairs  and  down-stairs  and 
round  about,"  returned  the  doctor,  casually. 

"And  the  maternity  cases?"  she  asked. 

"They  are  in  casual  ward." 

"Who  attends  to  them?" 

"They  do  not  like  me;  but  there  is  very  clever 
woman  from  the  outside  —  she  comes  in." 

"Has  she  any  training  —  any  education?" 

"She  is  much  esteemed  in  her  own  village," 
said  the  doctor.  "She  is  here  now,  if  you  wish 
to  see." 

"Where?"  demanded  Kate. 

Dhunpat  Rai,  somewhat  uneasy  in  his  mind, 
made  haste  to  lead  the  way  up  a  narrow  stair- 
case to  a  closed  door,  from  behind  which  came 
the  wail  of  a  new  life. 

Kate  flung  the  door  open  wrathfully.  In  that 
particular  ward  of  the  State  Hospital  were  the 
clay  and  cow-dung  images  of  two  gods,  which 
the  woman  in  charge  was  besprinkling  with  mari- 
gold buds.  Every  window,  every  orifice  that  might 
admit  a  breath  of  air,  was  closed,  and  the  birth-fire 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  149 

blazed  fiercely  in  one  corner,  its  fumes  nearly 
asphyxiating  Kate  as  she  entered. 

What  happened  between  Kate  and  the  much- 
esteemed  woman  will  never  be  known.  The  girl 
did  not  emerge  for  half  an  hour.  But  the  woman 
came  out  much  sooner,  dishevelled,  and  cackling 
feebly. 

After  this  Kate  was  prepared  for  anything,  even 
for  the  neglected  condition  of  the  drugs  in  the 
dispensary,  —  the  mortar  was  never  cleaned,  and 
every  prescription  carried  to  the  patient  many 
more  drugs  than  were  written  for  him,  —  and  for 
the  foul,  undrained,  uncleaned,  unlighted,  and 
unventilated  rooms  which  she  entered  one  after 
another  hopelessly.  The  patients  were  allowed  to 
receive  their  friends  as  they  would,  and  to  take 
from  their  hands  whatever  misguided  kindness 
offered.  When  death  came,  the  mourners  howled 
in  chorus  about  the  cot,  and  bore  the  naked  body 
through  the  court-yard,  amid  the  jeers  of  the  luna- 
tic, to  carry  to  the  city  what  infection  Heaven 
willed. 

There  was  no  isolation  of  infectious  cases  dur- 
ing the  progress  of  the  disease,  and  children 
scourged  with  ophthalmia  played  light-heartedly 
with  the  children  of  the  visitors  or  among  diph- 
theria-beds. At  one  point,  and  one  point  only, 
the  doctor  was  strong;  he  was  highly  successful 


150  THE  NAULAHKA. 

in  dealing  with  the  very  common  trouble  entered 
on  the  day-book  as  "loin-bite."  The  wood-cutters 
and  small  traders  who  had  occasion  to  travel  through 
the  lonely  roads  of  the  state  were  not  infrequently 
struck  down  by  tigers,  and  in  these  cases  the 
doctor,  discarding  the  entire  English  pharmacopoeia, 
fell  back  on  simples  of  proved  repute  in  the  neigh- 
boring villages,  and  wrought  wonders.  None  the 
less,  it  was  necessary  to  convey  to  him  that  in 
future  there  would  be  only  one  head  of  the  State 
Hospital,  that  her  orders  must  be  obeyed  with- 
out question,  and  that  her  name  was  Miss  Kate 
Sheriff. 

The  doctor,  reflecting  that  she  attended  on  the 
women  of  the  court,  offered  no  protest.  He  had 
been  through  many  such  periods  of  reform  and  reor- 
ganization, and  knew  that  his  own  inertia  and  a 
smooth  tongue  would  carry  him  through  many 
more.  He  bowed  and  assented,  allowing  Kate's 
reproaches  to  pass  over  his  head,  and  parrying  all 
questions  with  the  statement: 

"This  hospital  only  allowed  one  hundred  and 
fifty  rupees  per  mensem  from  state  revenues.  How 
can  get  drugs  all  the  way  from  Calcutta  for 
that?" 

"Jam  paying  for  this  order,"  said  Kate,  writing 
out  a  list  of  needed  drugs  and  appliances  on  the 
desk  in  the  bath-room,  which  was  supposed  to  serve 


A  STORY   OF   WEST   AND  BAST.  151 

as  an  office;  "and  I  shall  pay  for  whatever  else  I 
think  necessary." 

"Order  going  through  me  offeecially ? "  sug- 
gested Dhunpat  Rai,  with  his  head  on  one  side. 

Unwilling  to  raise  unnecessary  obstacles,  Kate 
assented.  With  those  poor  creatures  lying  in  the 
rooms  about  her  unwatched,  untended,  at  the  mercy 
of  this  creature,  it  was  not  a  time  to  argue  about 
commissions. 

"Yes,"  she  said  decidedly;  "of  course."  And 
the  doctor,  when  he  saw  the  size  and  scope  of  the 
order,  felt  that  he  could  endure  much  at  her 
hands. 

At  the  end  of  the  three  hours  Kate  came  away, 
fainting  with  weariness,  want  of  food,  and  bitter 
heartache. 


152  THE  NAULAHKA. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Who  speaks  to  the  King  carries  his  life  in  his  hand.* 

Native  Proverb. 

TAKVIN  found  the  Maharajah,  who  had  not  yet 
taken  his  morning  allowance  of  opium,  sunk  in 
the  deepest  depression.  The  man  from  Topaz 
gazed  at  him  shrewdly,  filled  with  his  purpose. 

The  Maharajah's  first  words  helped  him  to  de- 
clare it.  "What  have  you  come  here  for? "  he  asked. 

"To  Rhatore?"  inquired  Tarvin,  with  a  smile 
that  embraced  the  whole  horizon. 

"Yes;  to  Rhatore,"  grunted  the  Maharajah. 
"The  agent  sahib  says  you  do  not  belong  to  any 
government,  and  that  you  have  come  here  only  to 
see  things  and  write  lies  about  them.  Why  have 
you  come?" 

"  I  have  come  to  turn  your  river.  There  is  gold 
in  it,"  he  said  steadily. 

The  Rajah  answered  him  with  brevity.  "Go 
and  speak  to  the  Government,"  he  said  sulkily. 

"It's  your  river,  I  guess,"  returned  Tarvin, 
cheerfully. 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  Macmillan  &  Co. 


A    STOEY   OP  WEST   AND  EA8T.  153 

"  Mine !  Nothing  in  the  state  is  mine.  The 
shopkeeper  people  are  at  my  gates  day  and  night. 
The  agent  sahib  won't  let  me  collect  taxes  as  my 
fathers  used  to  do.  I  have  no  army." 

"  That's  perfectly  true,"  assented  Tarvin,  under 
his  breath.  "I'll  run  off  with  it  some  morning." 

"  And  if  I  had,"  continued  the  Maharajah,  "  I 
have  no  one  to  fight  against.  I  am  only  an  old 
wolf,  with  all  my  teeth  drawn.  Go  away ! " 

They  were  talking  in  the  flagged  court-yard 
immediately  outside  that  wing  of  the  palace  occu- 
pied by  Sitabhai.  The  Maharajah  was  sitting  in 
a  broken  Windsor  chair,  while  his  grooms  brought 
up  successive  files  of  horses,  saddled  and  bridled, 
in  the  hope  that  one  of  the  animals  might  be 
chosen  for  his  Majesty's  ride.  The  stale,  sick  air  of 
the  palace  drifted  across  the  marble  flags  before 
the  morning  wind,  and  it  was  not  a  wholesome 
smell. 

Tarvin,  who  had  drawn  rein  in  the  court-yard 
without  dismounting,  flung  his  right  leg  over  the 
pony's  withers,  and  held  his  peace.  He  had  seen 
something  of  the  effect  of  opium  upon  the  Mahara- 
jah. A  servant  was  approaching  with  a  small 
brass  bowl  full  of  opium  and  water.  The  Mahara- 
jah swallowed  the  draught  with  many  wry  faces, 
dashed  the  last  brown  drops  from  his  mustache 
and  beard,  and  dropped  back  into  the  chair,  star- 


154  THE  NAULAHKA. 

ing  with  vacant  eyes.     In  a  few  minutes  he  sprang 
to  his  feet,  erect  and  smiling. 

"Are  you  here,  Sahib?"  said  he.  "You  are 
here,  or  I  should  not  feel  ready  to  laugh.  Do  you 
go  riding  this  morning?" 

"I'm  your  man." 

"Then  we  will  hring  out  the  Foxhall  colt.  He 
will  throw  you." 

"Very  good,"  said  Tarviri,  leisurely. 

"And  I  will  ride  my  own  Cutch  mare.  Let  us 
get  away  before  the  agent  sahib  comes,"  said  the 
Maharajah. 

The  blast  of  a  bugle  was  heard  without  the 
court-yard,  and  a  clatter  of  wheels,  as  the  grooms 
departed  to  saddle  the  horses. 

The  Maharaj  Kunwar  ran  up  the  steps  and 
pattered  toward  the  Maharajah,  his  father,  who 
picked  him  up  in  his  lap,  and  fondled  him. 

"What  brings  thee  here,  Lalji?"  asked  the 
Maharajah.  Lalji,  the  Beloved,  was  the  familiar 
name  by  which  the  Prince  was  known  within  the 
palace. 

"I  came  to  exercise  my  guard.  Father,  they 
are  giving  me  bad  saddlery  for  my  troopers  from 
the  state  arsenal.  Jeysingh's  saddle-peak  is  mended 
with  string,  and  Jeysingh  is  the  best  of  my  sol- 
diers. Moreover,  he  tells  me  nice  tales, "  said  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar,  speaking  in  the  vernacular, 
with  a  friendly  little  nod  toward  Tarvin. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  165 

"Hai!  Hai!  Thou  art  like  all  the  rest,"  said 
the  King.  "Always  some  fresh  demand  upon  the 
state.  And  what  is  it  now?" 

The  child  joined  his  little  hands  together,  and 
caught  his  father  fearlessly  by  his  monstrous  beard, 
which,  in  the  manner  of  a  Rajput,  was  brushed  up 
over  his  ears.  "Only  ten  little  new  saddles,"  said 
the  child.  "They  are  in  the  big  saddle-rooms.  I 
have  seen  them.  But  the  keeper  of  the  horses 
said  that  I  was  first  to  ask  the  King." 

The  Maharajah's  face  darkened,  and  he  swore  a 
great  oath  by  his  gods. 

"The  King  is  a  slave  and  a  servant,"  he  growled 

—  "  the  servant  of  the  agent  sahib  and  this  woman- 
talking  English  Raj;   but,    by   Indurl    the   King's 
son   is    at   least   a    King's    son.     What   right   had 
Saroop  Singh  to  stay  thee  from  anything  that  thou 
desirest,   Prince  ?  " 

"I  told  him,"  said  the  Maharaj  Kunwar,  "that 
iny  father  would  not  be  pleased.  But  I  said  no 
more,  because  I  was  not  very  well,  and  thou  know- 
est"  —  the  boy's  head  drooped  under  the  turban 

—  "I   am   only   a   little    child.      I    may    have    the 
saddles?" 

Tarvin,  to  whom  no  word  of  this  conversation 
was  intelligible,  sat  at  ease  on  his  pony,  smiling 
at  his  friend  the  Maharaj.  The  interview  had 
begun  in  the  dead  dawn-silence  of  the  court-yard 


156  THE  NAULAHKA. 

— a  silence  so  intense  that  he  could  hear  the  doves 
cooing  on  a  tower  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above 
his  head.  But  now  all  four  sides  of  the  green- 
shuttered  court-yard  were  alive,  awake,  and  intent 
about  him.  He  could  hear  muffled  breathings,  the 
rustle  of  draperies,  and  the  faintest  possible  jarring 
of  shutters,  cautiously  opened  from  within.  A 
heavy  smell  of  musk  and  jasmine  came  to  his  nos- 
trils and  filled  him  with  uneasiness,  for  he  knew, 
without  turning  his  head  or  his  eyes,  that  Sitabhai 
and  her  women  were  watching  all  that  went  on. 
But  neither  the  King  nor  the  Prince  heeded.  The 
Maharaj  Kunwar  was  very  full  of  his  English  les- 
sons, learned  at  Mrs.  Estes's  knee,  and  the  King 
was  as  interested  as  he.  Lest  Tarvin  should  fail 
to  understand,  the  Prince  began  to  speak  in  Eng- 
lish again,  but  very  slowly  and  distinctly,  that  his 
father  also  might  comprehend. 

"And  this  is  a  new  verse,"  he  said,  "which  I 
learned  only  yesterday." 

"Is  there  any  talk  of  their  gods  in  it?"  asked 
the  Maharajah,  suspiciously.  "Remember  thou  art 
a  Rajput." 

"  No ;  oh,  no  I  "  said  the  Prince.  "  It  is  only 
English,  and  I  learned  it  very  quickly." 

"Let  me  hear,  little  Pundit.  Some  day  thou 
wilt  become  a  scribe,  and  go  to  the  English  col- 
leges,  and  wear  a  long  black  gown." 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  167 

The  child  slipped  quickly  back  into  the  vernac- 
ular. "The  flag  of  our  state  has  five  colors,'*  he 
said.  "When  I  have  fought  for  that,  perhaps  I 
will  become  an  Englishman." 

"There  is  no  leading  of  armies  afield  any  more, 
little  one;  but  say  thy  verses." 

The  subdued  rustle  of  unseen  hundreds  grew 
more  intense.  Tarvin  leaned  forward  with  his 
chin  in  his  hand,  as  the  Prince  slid  down  from 
his  father's  lap,  put  his  hands  behind  him,  and 
began,  without  pauses  or  expression: 

"  Tiger,  tiger,  burning  bright 
In  the  forests  of  the  night, 
What  immortal  hand  or  eye 
Framed  thy  fearful  symmetry  ? 
When  thy  heart  began  to  beat, 
What  dread  hand  made  thy  dread  feet  ? 

"There  is  more  that  I  have  forgotten,"  he  went 
on,  "but  the  last  line  is: 

"  Did  he  who  made  the  lamb  make  thee  ? 

I  learned  it  all  very  quickly,"  and  he  began  to 
applaud  himself  with  both  hands,  while  Tarvin 
followed  suit. 

"I  do  not  understand;  but  it  is  good  to  know 
English.  Thy  friend  here  speaks  such  English 
as  I  never  knew,"  said  the  Maharajah  in  the  vei> 
nacular. 


158  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Aye,"  rejoined  the  Prince;  "but  he  speaka 
with  his  face  and  his  hands  alive  —  so ;  and  I 
laugh  before  I  know  why.  Now  Colonel  Nolan 
Sahib  speaks  like  a  buffalo,  with  his  mouth  shut. 
I  cannot  tell  whether  he  is  angry  or  pleased.  But, 
father,  what  does  Tarvin  Sahib  do  here?" 

"We  go  for  a  ride  together,"  returned  the  King. 
"  When  we  return,  perhaps  I  will  tell  thee.  What 
do  the  men  about  thee  say  of  him?" 

"They  say  he  is  a  man  of  clean  heart;  and  he 
is  always  kind  to  me." 

"Has  he  said  aught  to  thee  of  me?" 

"Never  in  language  that  I  could  understand. 
But  I  do  not  doubt  that  he  is  a  good  man.  See, 
he  is  laughing  now." 

Tarvin,  who  had  pricked  up  his  ears  at  hearing 
his  own  name,  now  resettled  himself  in  the  saddle, 
and  gathered  up  his  reins,  as  a  hint  to  the  King 
that  it  was  time  to  be  moving. 

The  grooms  brought  up  a  long,  switch-tailed 
English  thoroughbred  and  a  lean,  mouse-colored 
mare.  The  Maharajah  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Go  back  to  Saroop  Singh  and  get  the  saddles, 
Prince,"  said  he. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  to-day,  little  man  ?  '* 
asked  Tarvin. 

"I  shall  go  and  get  new  equipment,"  answered 
the  child,  "  and  then  I  shall  come  to  play  with  the 
prime  minister's  son  here." 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  159 

Again,  like  the  hiss  of  a  hidden  snake,  the 
rustle  behind  the  shutters  increased.  Evidently 
some  one  there  understood  the  child's  words. 

"Shall  you  see  Miss  Kate  to-day?" 

"Not  to-day.  'Tis  holiday  for  me.  I  do  not 
go  to  Miss  Estes  to-day." 

The  King  turned  on  Tarvin  swiftly,  and  spoke 
under  his  breath. 

"Must  he  see  that  doctor  lady  every  day?  All 
my  people  lie  to  me,  in  the  hope  of  winning  my 
favor;  even  Colonel  Nolan  says  that  the  child  is 
very  strong.  Speak  the  truth.  He  is  my  first 
son." 

"He  is  not  strong,"  answered  Tarvin,  calmly. 
"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  let  him  see  Miss 
Sheriff  this  morning.  You  don't  lose  anything  by 
keeping  your  weather  eye  open,  you  know." 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  King;  "but  go 
to  the  missionary's  house  to-day,  my  son." 

"I  am  to  come  here  and  play,"  answered  the 
Prince,  petulantly. 

"You  don't  know  what  Miss  Sheriff's  got  for 
you  to  play  with,"  said  Tarvin. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  Maharaj,  sharply. 

"You've  got  a  carriage  and  ten  troopers,"  replied 
Tarvin.  "You've  only  got  to  go  there  and  find 
out." 

He  drew  a  letter  from  his  breast-pocket,  glanc* 


160  THE  NAULAHKA. 

ing  with  liking  at  the  two-cent  American  stamp, 
and  scribbled  a  note  to  Kate  on  the  envelope, 
which  ran  thus: 

Keep  the  little  fellow  with  you  to-day.  There's  a 
wicked  look  about  things  this  morning.  Find  some- 
thing for  him  to  do;  get  up  games  for  him;  do  any- 
thing, but  keep  him  away  from  the  palace.  I  got  your 
note.  All  right.  I  understand. 

He  called  the  Maharaj  to  him,  and  handed  him 
the  note.  "Take  this  to  Miss  Kate,  like  a  little 
man,  and  say  I  sent  you,"  he  said. 

"My  son  is  not  an  orderly,"  said  the  King, 
surlily. 

"Your  son  is  not  very  well,  and  I'm  the  first 
to  speak  the  truth  to  you  about  him,  it  seems  to 
me,"  said  Tarvin.  "Gently  on  that  colt's  mouth 
—  you."  The  Foxhall  colt  was  dancing  between 
his  grooms. 

"You'll  be  thrown,"  said  the  Maharaj  Kunwar, 
in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  "He  throws  all  his 
grooms." 

At  that  moment  a  shutter  in  the  court-yard 
clicked  distinctly  three  times  in  the  silence. 

One  of  the  grooms  passed  to  the  off  side  of  the 
plunging  colt  deftly.  Tarvin  put  his  foot  into 
the  stirrup  to  spring  up,  when  the  saddle  turned 
completely  round.  Some  one  let  go  of  the  horse's 


A   STORY   OF    WEST   AND  BAST.  161 

head,  and  Tarvin  had  just  time  to  kick  his  foot 
free  as  the  animal  sprang  forward. 

"I've  seen  slicker  ways  of  killing  a  man  than 
that,"  he  said  quietly.  "Bring  my  friend  back," 
he  added  to  one  of  the  grooms;  and  when  the 
Foxhall  colt  was  under  his  hands  again  he  cinched 
him  up  as  the  beast  had  not  been  girt  since  he 
had  first  felt  the  bit.  "Now,"  he  said,  and  leaped 
into  the  saddle,  as  the  King  clattered  out  of  the 
court-yard. 

The  colt  reared  on  end,  landed  stiffly  on  his 
fore  feet,  and  lashed  out.  Tarvin,  sitting  him 
with  the  cowboy  seat,  said  quietly  to  the  child, 
who  was  still  watching  his  movements,  "Run 
along,  Maharaj.  Don't  hang  around  here.  Let 
me  see  you  started  for  Miss  Kate." 

The  boy  obeyed,  with  a  regretful  glance  at  the 
prancing  horse.  Then  the  Foxhall  colt  devoted 
himself  to  unseating  his  rider.  He  refused  to  quit 
the  court-yard,  though  Tarvin  argued  with  him, 
first  behind  the  saddle,  and  then  between  the  indig- 
nant ears.  Accustomed  to  grooms  who  slipped 
off  at  the  first  sign  of  rebellion,  the  Foxhall  colt 
was  wrathful.  Without  warning,  he  dashed  through 
the  archway,  wheeled  on  his  haunches,  and  bolted 
in  pursuit  of  the  Maharajah's  mare.  Once  in  the 
open,  sandy  country,  he  felt  that  he  had  a  field 
worthy  of  his  powers.  Tarvin  also  saw  his  oppor- 

K 


162  THE   NAULAHKA. 

tunity.  The  Maharajah,  known  in  his  youth  as 
a  hard  rider  among  a  nation  of  perhaps  the  hardest 
riders  on  earth,  turned  in  his  saddle  and  watched 
the  battle  with  interest. 

"You  ride  like  a  Rajput,"  he  shouted,  as  Tar- 
vin  flew  past  him.  "Breathe  him  on  a  straight 
course  in  the  open." 

"Not  till  he's  learned  who's  boss,"  replied  Tar* 
vin,  and  he  wrenched  the  colt  around. 

"Shabash!  ShabasJi!  Oh,  well  done!  Well  done!  " 
cried  the  Maharajah,  as  the  colt  answered  the  bit. 
"Tarvin  Sahib,  I'll  make  you  colonel  of  my  regu- 
lar cavalry." 

"  Ten  million  irregular  devils ! "  said  Tarvin, 
impolitely.  "  Come  back,  you  brute !  Back  I  " 

The  horse's  head  was  bowed  on  his  lathering 
chest  under  the  pressure  of  the  curb;  but  before 
obeying  he  planted  his  fore  feet,  and  bucked  as 
viciously  as  one  of  Tarvin's  own  broncos.  "Both 
feet  down  and  chest  extended,"  he  murmured  gayly 
to  himself,  as  the  creature  see-sawed  up  and  down. 
He  was  in  his  element,  and  dreamed  himself  back 
in  Topaz. 

"  Maro  !  Maro  !  "  exclaimed  the  King.  "  Hit  him 
hard!  Hit  him  well!" 

"Oh,  let  him  have  his  little  picnic,"  said  Tar- 
vin, easily.  "I  like  it." 

When  the  colt  was  tired  he  was  forced  to  back 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND   EAST.  163 

for  ten  yards.  "Now  we'll  go  on,"  said  Tarvin, 
and  fell  into  a  trot  by  the  side  of  the  Maharajah. 
"That  river  of  yours  is  full  of  gold,"  he  said, 
after  a  moment's  silence,  as  if  continuing  an  unin- 
terrupted conversation. 

"When  I  was  a  young  man,"  said  the  King,  "I 
rode  pig  here.  We  chased  them  with  the  sword 
in  the  springtime.  That  was  before  the  English 
came.  Over  there,  by  that  pile  of  rock,  I  broke 
my  collar-bone." 

"Full  of  gold,  Maharajah  Sahib.  How  do  you 
propose  to  get  it  out?" 

Tarvin  knew  something  already  of  the  King's 
discursiveness;  he  did  not  mean  to  give  way  to 
it. 

"What  do  I  know?"  answered  the  King,  sol- 
emnly. "Ask  the  agent  sahib." 

"But,  look  here,  who  does  run  this  state,  you 
or  Colonel  Nolan?" 

"You  know,"  returned  the  Maharajah.  "You 
have  seen."  He  pointed  north  and  south.  "There," 
he  said,  "is  one  railway  line;  yonder  is  another. 
I  am  a  goat  between  two  wolves." 

"Well,  anyway,  the  country  between  is  your 
own.  Surely  you  can  do  what  you  like  with 
that." 

They  had  ridden  some  two  or  three  miles  beyond 
the  city,  parallel  with  the  course  of  the  Amet 


164  THE  NAULAHKA. 

River,  their  horses  sinking  fetlock-deep  in  the  soft 
sand.  The  King  looked  along  the  chain  of  shin- 
ing pools,  the  white,  rush-tipped  hillocks  of  the 
desert,  and  the  far-distant  line  of  low  granite- 
topped  hills,  whence  the  Amet  sprang.  It  was 
not  a  prospect  to  delight  the  heart  of  a  king. 

"Yes;  I  am  lord  of  all  this  country,"  he  said. 
"  But,  look  you,  one  fourth  of  my  revenue  is  swal- 
lowed up  by  those  who  collect  it;  one  fourth  those 
black-faced  camel-breeders  in  the  sand  there  will 
not  pay,  and  I  must  not  march  troops  against  them ; 
one  fourth  I  myself,  perhaps,  receive;  but  the  peo- 
ple who  should  pay  the  other  fourth  do  not  know 
to  whom  it  should  be  sent.  Yes ;  I  am  a  very  rich 
king." 

"Well,  any  way  you  look  at  it,  the  river  ought 
to  treble  your  income." 

The  Maharajah  looked  at  Tarvin  intently. 

"What  would  the  Government  say?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  quite  see  where  the  Government  comes 
in.  You  can  lay  out  orange-gardens  and  take 
canals  around  them."  (There  was  a  deep-set  twin- 
kle of  comprehension  in  his  Majesty's  eye.)  "  Work- 
ing the  river  would  be  much  easier.  You've  tried 
placer-mining  here,  haven't  you?" 

"  There  was  some  washing  in  the  bed  of  the  river 
one  summer.  My  jails  were  too  full  of  convicts, 
and  I  feared  rebellion.  But  there  was  nothing  to 


A   STORY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  165 

see,  except  those  black  dogs  digging  in  the  sand. 
That  year  I  won  the  Poonah  cup  with  a  bay  pony." 

Tarvin  brought  his  hand  down  on  his  thigh  with 
an  unguarded  smack.  What  was  the  use  of  talk- 
ing business  to  this  wearied  man,  who  would  pawn 
what  the  opium  had  left  to  him  of  soul  for  some- 
thing to  see?  He  shifted  his  ground  instantly. 

"Yes;  that  sort  of  mining  is  nothing  to  look 
at.  What  you  want  is  a  little  dam  up  Gungra 
way. " 

"Near  the  hills?" 

"Yes." 

"No  man  has  ever  dammed  the  Amet,"  said  the 
King.  "It  comes  out  of  the  ground,  and  sinks 
back  into  the  ground,  and  when  the  rain  falls  it 
is  as  big  as  the  Indus." 

"We'll  have  the  whole  bed  of  it  laid  bare  before 
the  rains  begin  —  bare  for  twelve  miles, "  said  Tar- 
vin, watching  the  effect  on  his  companion. 

"No  man  has  dammed  the  Amet,"  was  the  stony 
reply. 

"No  man  has  ever  tried.  Give  me  all  the  labor 
I  want,  and  I  will  dam  the  Amet." 

"Where  will  the  water  go?"  inquired  the  King. 

"I'll  take  it  around  another  way,  as  you  took 
the  canal  around  the  orange-garden,  of  course." 

"Ah!  Then  Colonel  Nolan  talked  to  me  as  if 
I  were  a  child." 


166  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"You  know  why,  Maharajah  Sahib,"  said  Tar- 
vin,  placidly. 

The  King  was  frozen  for  a  moment  by  this  au- 
dacity. He  knew  that  all  the  secrets  of  his 
domestic  life  were  common  talk  in  the  mouths  of 
the  city,  for  no  man  can  bridle  three  hundred 
women;  but  he  was  not  prepared  to  find  them  so 
frankly  hinted  at  by  this  irreverent  stranger,  who 
was  and  was  not  an  Englishman. 

"Colonel  Nolan  will  say  nothing  this  time," 
continued  Tarvin.  "Besides,  it  will  help  youi 
people." 

"Who  are  also  his,"  said  the  King. 

The  opium  was  dying  out  of  his  brain,  and  his 
head  fell  forward  upon  his  chest. 

"Then  I  shall  begin  to-morrow,"  said  Tarvin. 
"It  will  be  something  to  see.  I  must  find  the 
best  place  to  dam  the  river,  and  I  dare  say  you 
can  lend  me  a  few  hundred  convicts." 

"But  why  have  you  come  here  at  all,"  asked  the 
King,  "to  dam  my  rivers,  and  turn  my  state  upside 
down?" 

"Because  it's  good  for  you  to  laugh,  Maharajah 
Sahib.  You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do.  I  will 
play  pachisi  with  you  every  night  until  you  are 
tired,  and  I  can  speak  the  truth  —  a  rare  commo- 
dity in  these  parts." 

"Did  you  speak  truth  about  the  Maharaj  Kun- 
war?  Is  he  indeed  not  well?" 


A  8TOEY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  167 

"I  have  told  you  he  isn't  quite  strong.  But 
there's  nothing  the  matter  with  him  that  Miss 
Sheriff  can't  put  right." 

"Is  that  the  truth?"  demanded  the  King.  "Re- 
member, he  has  my  throne  after  me." 

"If  I  know  Miss  Sheriff,  he'll  have  that  throne. 
Don't  you  fret,  Maharajah  Sahib." 

"You  are  great  friend  of  hers?"  pursued  his 
companion.  "You  both  come  from  one  country?" 

"Yes,"  assented  Tarvin;  "and  one  town." 

"Tell  me  about  that  town,"  said  the  King,  curi- 
ously. 

Tarvin,  nothing  loath,  told  him  —  told  him  at 
length,  in  detail,  and  with  his  own  touches  of 
verisimilitude,  forgetting  in  the  heat  of  admiration 
and  affection  that  the  King  could  understand,  at 
best,  not  more  than  one  word  in  ten  of  his  vigor- 
ous Western  colloquialisms.  Half-way  through  his 
rhapsody  the  King  interrupted. 

"  If  it  was  so  good,  why  did  you  not  stay  there  ?  " 

"I  came  to  see  you,"  said  Tarvin,  quickly.  "I 
heard  about  you  there/' 

"  Then  it  is  true,  what  my  poets  sing  to  me,  that 
my  fame  is  known  in  the  four  corners  of  the  earth? 
I  will  fill  Bussant  Rao's  mouth  with  gold  if  it  is 
so." 

"You  can  bet  your  life.  Would  you  like  me  to 
go  away,  though?  Say  the  word!"  Tarvin  made 
as  if  to  check  his  horse. 


THE  NAULAHKA. 

The  Maharajah  remained  sunk  in  deep  thought, 
and  when  he  spoke  it  was  slowly  and  distinctly, 
that  Tarvin  might  catch  every  word.  "I  hate  all 
the  English,"  he  said.  "Their  ways  are  not  my 
ways,  and  they  make  such  trouble  over  the  killing 
of  a  man  here  and  there.  Your  ways  are  not  my 
ways;  but  you  do  not  give  so  much  trouble,  and 
you  are  a  friend  of  the  doctor  lady." 

"Well,  I  hope  I'm  a  friend  of  the  Maharaj  Kun- 
war's  too,"  said  Tarvin. 

"Are  you  a  true  friend  to  him?"  asked  the 
King,  eyeing  him  closely. 

"That's  all  right.  I'd  like  to  see  the  man  who 
tried  to  lay  a  hand  on  the  little  one.  He'd  van- 
ish, King;  he'd  disappear;  he  wouldn't  be.  I'd 
mop  up  Gokral  Seetarun  with  him." 

"I  have  seen  you  hit  that  rupee.     Do  it  again." 

Without  thinking  for  a  moment  of  the  Foxhall 
colt,  Tarvin  drew  his  revolver,  tossed  a  coin  into 
the  air,  and  fired.  The  coin  fell  beside  them,  —  a 
fresh  one  this  time, — marked  squarely  in  the  cen- 
tre. The  colt  plunged  furiously,  and  the  Cutch 
mare  curveted.  There  was  a  thunder  of  hoofs 
behind  them.  The  escort,  which,  till  now,  had 
waited  respectfully  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind, 
were  racing  up  at  full  speed,  with  levelled  lances. 
The  King  laughed  a  little  contemptuously. 

"  They  are  thinking  you  have  shot  me, "  he  said. 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND   EAST.  169 

"  So  they  will  kill  you,  unless  I  stop  them.  Shall 
I  stop  them?" 

Tarvin  thrust  out  his  under  jaw  with  a  motion 
peculiar  to  himself,  wheeled  the  colt,  and  waited 
without  answering,  his  empty  hands  folded  on  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle.  The  troop  swept  down  in 
an  irregular  mob,  each  man  crouching,  lance  in 
rest,  over  his  saddle-bow,  and  the  captain  of  the 
troop  flourishing  a  long,  straight  Rajput  sword. 
Tarvin  felt  rather  than  saw  the  lean,  venomous 
lanceheads  converging  on  the  breast  of  the  colt. 
The  King  drew  off  a  few  yards,  and  watched  him 
Avhere  he  stood  alone  in  the  centre  of  the  plain, 
waiting.  For  that  single  moment,  in  which  he 
faced  death,  Tarvin  thought  to  himself  that  he 
preferred  an}*-  customer  to  a  maharajah. 

Suddenly  his  Highness  shouted  once,  the  lance- 
butts  fell  as  though  they  had  been  smitten  down, 
and  the  troop,  opening  out,  whirled  by  on  each 
side  of  Tarvin,  each  man  striving  as  nearly  as 
might  be  to  brush  the  white  man's  boot. 

The  white  man  stared  in  front  of  him  without 
turning  his  head,  and  the  King  gave  a  little  grunt 
of  approval. 

"Would  you  have  done  that  for  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar?"  he  asked,  wheeling  his  mare  in  again 
beside  him,  after  a  pause. 

"No,"  said  Tarvin,  placidly.  "I  should  have 
begun  shooting  long  before." 


170  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"What!     Fifty  men?" 

"No;  the  captain." 

The  King  shook  in  his  saddle  with  laughter, 
and  held  up  his  hand.  The  commandant  of  the 
troop  trotted  up. 

"  Ohe,  Pertab  Singh-Ji,  he  says  he  would  have 
shot  thee."  Then,  turning  to  Tarvin,  smiling, 
"That  is  my  cousin." 

The  burly  Rajput  captain  grinned  from  ear  to 
ear,  and,  to  Tarvin 's  surprise,  answered  in  perfect 
English :  "  That  would  do  for  irregular  cavalry,  — 
to  kill  the  subalterns,  you  understand,  —  but  we 
are  drilled  exclusively  on  English  model,  and  I 
have  my  commission  from  the  Queen.  Now,  in 
the  German  army  —  " 

Tarvin  looked  at  him  in  blank  amazement. 

"But  you  are  not  connected  with  the  military," 
said  Pertab  Singh-Ji,  politely.  "  I  have  heard  how 
you  shot,  and  I  saw  what  you  were  doing.  But 
you  must  please  excuse.  When  a  shot  is  fired  near 
his  Highness  it  is  our  order  always  to  come  up." 

He  saluted,  and  withdrew  to  his  troop. 

The  sun  was  growing  unpleasantly  hot,  and  the 
King  and  Tarvin  trotted  back  toward  the  city. 

"How  many  convicts  can  you  lend  me?"  asked 
Tarvin,  as  they  went. 

"All  my  jails  full,  if  you  want  them,"  was 
the  enthusiastic  answer.  "  By  God,  Sahib,  I  n§ver 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  171 

saw  anything  like  that.  I  would  give  you  any- 
thing." 

Tarvin  took  off  his  hat,  and  mopped  his  fore- 
head, laughing. 

"Very  good,  then.  I'll  ask  for  something  that 
will  cost  you  nothing." 

The  Maharajah  grunted  doubtfully.  People  gen- 
erally demanded  of  him  things  he  was  not  willing 
to  part  with. 

"That  talk  is  new  to  me,  Tarvin  Sahib,"  said 
he. 

"You'll  see  I'm  in  earnest  when  I  say  I  only 
want  to  look  at  the  Naulahka.  I've  seen  all  your 
state  diamonds  and  gold  carriages,  but  I  haven't 
seen  that." 

The  Maharajah  trotted  fifty  yards  without  reply- 
ing. Then : 

"Do   they  speak  of  it  where  you  come  from?" 

"Of  course.  All  Americans  know  that  it's  the 
biggest  thing  in  India.  It's  in  all  the  guide- 
books,"  said  Tarvin,  brazenly. 

"Do  the  books  say  where  it  is?  The  English 
people  are  so  wise."  The  Maharajah  stared  straight 
in  front  of  him,  and  almost  smiled. 

"No;  but  they  say  you  know,  and  I'd  like  to 
see  it." 

"You  must  understand,  Tarvin  Sahib,"  —  the 
Maharajah  spoke  meditatively,  — "  that  this  is  not 


172  THE  NAULAHKA. 

a  state  jewel,  but  the  state  jewel  —  the  jewel  of 
the  state.  It  is  a  holy  thing.  Even  I  do  not 
keep  it,  and  I  cannot  give  you  any  order  to  see 
it." 

Tarvin's  heart  sank. 

"But,"  the  Maharajah  continued,  "if  I  say  where 
it  is,  you  can  go  at  your  own  risk,  without  Gov- 
ernment interfering.  I  have  seen  you  are  not 
afraid  of  risk,  and  I  am  a  very  grateful  man.  Per- 
haps the  priests  will  show  you;  perhaps  they  will 
not.  Or  perhaps  you  will  not  find  the  priests  at 
all.  Oh,  I  forgot;  it  is  not  in  that  temple  that  I 
was  thinking  of.  No;  it  must  be  in  the  Gye- 
Mukh  —  the  Cow's  Mouth.  But  there  are  no 
priests  there,  and  nobody  goes.  Of  course  it  is  in 
the  Cow's  Mouth.  I  thought  it  was  in  this  city," 
resumed  the  Maharajah.  He  spoke  as  if  he  were 
talking  of  a  dropped  horseshoe  or  a  mislaid  turban. 

"Oh,  of  course.  The  Cow's  Mouth,"  repeated 
Tarvin,  as  if  this  also  were  in  the  guide-books. 

Chuckling  with  renewed  animation,  the  King 
went  on:  "By  God,  only  a  very  brave  man  would 
go  to  the  Gye-Mukh;  such  a  brave  man  as  your- 
self, Tarvin  Sahib,"  he  added,  giving  his  compan- 
ion a  shrewd  look.  "Ho,  ho!  Pertab  Singh- Ji 
would  not  go.  No;  not  with  all  his  troops  that 
you  conquered  to-day." 

"Keep  your  praise  until  I've  earned  it,  Mahara- 


A   STORY  OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  178 

jah  Sahib,"  said  Tarvin.  "Wait  until  I've  dammed 
that  river."  He  was  silent  for  a  while,  as  if  di- 
gesting this  newest  piece  of  information. 

"Now,  you  have  a  city  like  this  city,  I  sup- 
pose?" said  the  Maharajah,  interrogatively,  point- 
ing to  Rhatore. 

Tarvin  had  overcome  in  a  measure  his  first  feel- 
ing of  contempt  for  the  state  of  Gokral  Seetarun 
and  the  city  of  Rhatore.  He  had  begun  to  look 
upon  them  both,  as  was  his  nature  in  the  case  of 
people  and  things  with  which  he  dwelt,  with  a 
certain  kindness. 

"Topaz  is  going  to  be  bigger,"  he  explained. 

"  And  when  you  are  there  what  is  your  offeecial 
position?"  asked  the  Maharajah. 

Tarvin,  without  answering,  drew  from  his  breast- 
pocket the  cable  from  Mrs.  Mutrie,  and  handed 
it  in  silence  to  the  King.  Where  an  election  was 
concerned  even  the  sympathy  of  an  opium-soaked 
Rajput  was  not  indifferent  to  him. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  asked  the  King,  and 
Tarvin  threw  up  his  hands  in  despair. 

He  explained  his  connection  with  the  govern- 
ment of  his  state,  making  the  Colorado  legislature 
appear  as  one  of  the  parliaments  of  America.  He 
owned  up  to  being  the  Hon.  Nicholas  Tarvin,  if 
the  Maharajah  really  wanted  to  give  him  his  full 
title. 


174  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"  Such  as  the  members  of  provincial  councils  that 
come  here?"  suggested  the  Maharajah,  remember- 
ing the  gray-headed  men  who  visited  him  from  time 
to  time,  charged  with  authority  only  little  less  than 
that  of  a  viceroy.  "But  still  you  will  not  write 
letters  to  that  legislature  about  my  government?" 
queried  he  suspiciously,  recalling  again  over-curi- 
ous emissaries  from  the  British  Parliament  over 
seas,  who  sat  their  horses  like  sacks,  and  talked 
interminably  of  good  government  when  he  wished 
to  go  to  bed.  "  And,  above  all, "  he  added  slowly, 
as  they  drew  near  to  the  palace,  "you  are  most 
true  friend  of  the  Maharaj  Kunwar?  And  your 
friend,  the  lady  doctor,  will  make  him  well?" 

"That,"  said  Tarvin,  with  a  sudden  inspiration, 
"is  what  we  are  both  here  for!" 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  175 


CHAPTER  XII. 

This  I  saw  when  the  rites  were  done 
And  the  lamps  were  dead  and  the  Gods  alone 
And  the  gray  snake  coiled  on  the  altar  stone  — 
Ere  I  fled  from  a  Fear  that  I  could  not  see, 
And  the  Gods  of  the  East  made  mouths  at  me.* 

In  Seonee. 

WHEN  he  left  the  King's  side,  Tarvin's  first 
impulse  was  to  set  the  Foxhall  colt  into  a  gallop, 
and  forthwith  depart  in  search  of  the  Naulahka. 
He  mechanically  drove  his  heels  home,  and  short- 
ened his  rein  under  the  impulse  of  the  thought; 
but  the  colt's  leap  beneath  him  recalled  him  to  his 
senses,  and  he  restrained  himself  and  his  mount 
with  the  same  motion. 

His  familiarity  with  the  people's  grotesque  no- 
menclature left  him  unimpressed  by  the  Cow's 
Mouth  as  a  name  for  a  spot,  but  he  gave  some 
wonder  to  the  question  why  the  thing  should  be 
in  the  Cow's  Mouth.  This  was  a  matter  to  be 
laid  before  Estes. 

"These  heathen,"  he  said  to  himself,  "are  just 
the  sort  to  hide  it  away  in  a  salt-lick,  or  bury  it 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  Macmillan  k  Co. 


176  THE  NAULAHKA. 

in  a  hole  in  the  ground.  Yes;  a  hole  is  about 
their  size.  They  put  the  state  diamonds  in  cracker- 
boxes  tied  up  with  boot-laces.  The  Naulahka  is 
probably  hanging  on  a  tree." 

As  he  trotted  toward  the  missionary's  house,  he 
looked  at  the  hopeless  landscape  with  new  interest, 
for  any  spur  of  the  low  hills,  or  any  roof  in  the 
jumbled  city,  might  contain  his  treasure. 

Estes,  who  had  outlived  many  curiosities,  and 
knew  Rajputana  as  a  prisoner  knows  the  bricks  of 
his  cell,  turned  on  Tarvin,  in  reply  to  the  latter's 
direct  question,  a  flood  of  information.  There  were 
mouths  of  all  kinds  in  India,  from  the  Burning 
Mouth  in  the  north,  where  a  jet  of  natural  gas 
was  worshipped  by  millions  as  the  incarnation  of  a 
divinity,  to  the  Devil's  Mouth  among  some  for- 
gotten Buddhist  ruins  in  the  furthest  southern 
corner  of  Madras. 

There  was  also  a  Cow's  Mouth  some  hundreds 
of  miles  away,  in  the  court-yard  of  a  temple  at 
Benares,  much  frequented  by  devotees;  but  as  far 
as  Rajputana  was  concerned,  there  was  only  one 
Cow's  Mouth,  and  that  was  to  be  found  in  a  dead 
city. 

The  missionary  launched  into  a  history  of  wars 
and  rapine,  extending  over  hundreds  of  years,  all 
centring  round  one  rock-walled  city  in  the  wilder- 
ness, which  had  been  the  pride  and  the  glory  of 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  177 

the  kings  of  Mewar.  Tarvin  listened  with  patience 
as  infinite  as  his  weariness  —  ancient  history  had 
no  charm  for  the  man  who  was  making  his  own 
town  —  while  Estes  enlarged  upon  the  past,  and 
told  stories  of  voluntary  immolation  on  the  pyre 
in  subterranean  palaces  by  thousands  of  Rajput 
women  who,  when  the  city  fell  before  a  Moham- 
medan, and  their  kin  had  died  in  the  last  charge 
of  defence,  cheated  the  conquerors  of  all  but  the 
empty  glory  of  conquest.  Estes  had  a  taste  for 
archaeology,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  him  to  speak 
of  it  to  a  fellow  countryman. 

By  retracing  the  ninety-six  miles  to  Rawut 
Junction,  Tarvin  might  make  connection  with  a 
train  that  would  carry  him  sixty-seven  miles  west- 
ward to  yet  another  junction,  where  he  would 
change  and  go  south  by  rail  for  a  hundred  and 
seven  miles ;  and  this  would  bring  him  within  four 
miles  of  this  city,  its  marvellous  nine-storied  tower 
of  glory,  which  he  was  to  note  carefully,  its  stu- 
pendous walls  and  desolate  palaces.  The  journey 
would  occupy  at  least  two  days.  At  this  point 
Tarvin  suggested  a  map,  and  a  glance  at  it  showed 
him  that  Estes  proposed  an  elaborate  circus  round 
three  sides  of  a  square,  whereas  a  spider-like  line 
ran  more  or  less  directly  from  Rhatore  to  Gun- 
naur. 

"This  seems  shorter,"  he  said. 
v 


178  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"It's  only  a  country  road,  and  you  have  had 
some  experience  of  roads  in  this  state.  Fifty-seven 
miles  on  a  kutcha  road  in  this  sun  would  be  fatal." 

Tarvin  smiled  to  himself.  He  had  no  particular 
dread  of  the  sun,  which,  year  by  year,  had  stolen 
from  his  companion  something  of  his  vitality. 

"I  think  I'll  ride,  anyhow.  It  seems  a  waste 
to  travel  half  round  India  to  get  at  a  thing 
across  the  road,  though  it  is  the  custom  of  the 
country." 

He  asked  the  missionary  what  the  Cow's  Mouth 
was  like,  and  Estes  explained  archseologically,  archi- 
tecturally, and  philologically  to  such  good  purpose 
that  Tarvin  understood  that  it  was  some  sort  of  a 
hole  in  the  ground  —  an  ancient,  a  remarkably 
ancient,  hole  of  peculiar  sanctity,  but  nothing  more 
than  a  hole. 

Tarvin  decided  to  start  without  an  hour's  delay. 
The  dam  might  wait  until  he  returned.  It  was 
hardly  likely  that  the  King's  outburst  of  gener- 
osity would  lead  him  to  throw  open  his  jails  on 
the  morrow.  Tarvin  debated  for  a  while  whether 
he  should  tell  him  of  the  excursion  he  was  propos- 
ing to  himself,  and  then  decided  that  he  would 
look  at  the  necklace  first,  and  open  negotiations 
later.  This  seemed  to  suit  the  customs  of  the 
country.  He  returned  to  the  rest-house  with 
Estes 's  map  in  his  pocket  to  take  stock  of  his 


A   STORY  OP  WEST  AND  EAST.  179 

stable.  Like  other  men  of  the  West,  he  reckoned 
a  horse  a  necessity  before  all  other  necessities,  and 
had  purchased  one  mechanically  immediately  after 
his  arrival.  It  had  been  a  comfort  to  him  to  note 
all  the  tricks  of  all  the  men  he  had  ever  traded 
horses  with  faithfully  reproduced  in  the  lean, 
swarthy  Cabuli  trader  who  had  led  his  kicking, 
plunging  horse  up  to  the  veranda  one  idle  even- 
ing; and  it  had  been  a  greater  comfort  to  battle 
with  them  as  he  had  battled  in  the  old  days.  The 
result  of  the  skirmish,  fought  out  in  broken  Eng- 
lish and  expressive  American,  was  an  unhandsome, 
doubtful-tempered,  mouse-colored  Kathiawar  stall- 
ion, who  had  been  dismissed  for  vice  from  the 
service  of  his  Majesty,  and  who  weakly  believed 
that,  having  eaten  pieces  of  the  troopers  of  the 
Deo  Li  Irregular  Horse,  ease  and  idleness  awaited 
him.  Tarvin  had  undeceived  him  leisurely,  in 
such  moments  as  he  most  felt  the  need  of  doing 
something,  and  the  Kathiawar,  though  never  grate- 
ful, was  at  least  civil.  He  had  been  christened 
Fibby  Winks  in  recognition  of  ungentlemanly  con- 
duct and  a  resemblance  which  Tarvin  fancied  he 
detected  between  the  beast's  lean  face  and  that  of 
the  man  who  had  jumped  his  claim. 

Tarvin  threw  back  the  loin-cloth  as  he  came 
upon  Fibby  drowsing  in  the  afternoon  sun  behind 
the  rest-house. 


180  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"We're  going  for  a  little  walk  down-town, 
Fibby,"  he  said. 

The  Kathiawar  squealed  and  snapped. 

"Yes;  you  always  were  a  loafer,  Fibby." 

Fibby  was  saddled  by  his  nervous  native  atten- 
dant, while  Tarvin  took  a  blanket  from  his  room 
and  rolled  up  into  it  an  imaginative  assortment 
of  provisions.  Fibby  was  to  find  his  rations  where 
Heaven  pleased.  Then  he  set  out  as  light-heartedly 
as  though  he  were  going  for  a  canter  round  the 
city.  It  was  now  about  three  in  the  afternoon. 
All  Fibby's  boundless  reserves  of  ill  temper  and 
stubborn  obstinacy  Tarvin  resolved  should  be  de- 
voted, by  the  aid  of  his  spurs,  to  covering  the 
fifty-seven  miles  to  Gunnaur  in  the  next  ten  hours, 
if  the  road  were  fair.  If  not,  he  should  be  allowed 
another  two  hours.  The  return  journey  would  not 
require  spurs.  There  was  a  moon  that  night,  and 
Tarvin  knew  enough  of  native  roads  in  Gokrai 
Seetarun,  and  rough  trails  elsewhere,  to  be  certain 
that  he  would  not  be  confused  by  cross-tracks. 

It  being  borne  into  Fibby's  mind  that  he  was 
required  to  advance,  not  in  three  directions  at  once, 
but  in  one,  he  clicked  his  bit  comfortably  in  his 
mouth,  dropped  his  head,  and  began  to  trot  stead- 
ily. Then  Tarvin  pulled  him  up,  and  addressed 
him  tenderly. 

"Fib,  my  boy,  we're  not  out  for  exercise  —  you'll 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  181 

learn  that  before  sundown.  Some  galoot  has  been 
training  you  to  waste  your  time  over  the  English 
trot.  I'll  be  discussing  other  points  with  you  in 
the  course  of  the  campaign;  but  we'll  settle  this 
now.  We  don't  begin  with  crime.  Drop  it, 
Fibby,  and  behave  like  a  man-horse." 

Tarvin  was  obliged  to  make  further  remarks  on 
the  same  subject  before  Fibby  returned  to  the  easy 
native  lope,  which  is  also  a  common  Western  pace, 
tiring  neither  man  nor  beast.  By  this  he  began 
to  understand  that  a  long  journey  was  demanded 
of  him,  and,  lowering  his  tail,  buckled  down  to 
it. 

At  first  he  moved  in  a  cloud  of  sandy  dust  with 
the  cotton-wains  and  the  country-carts  that  were 
creaking  out  to  the  far  distant  railroad  at  Gun- 
naur.  As  the  sun  began  to  sink,  his  gaunt  shadow 
danced  like  a  goblin  across  low-lying  volcanic 
rock  tufted  with  shrubs,  and  here  and  there  an 
aloe. 

The  carters  unyoked  their  cattle  on  the  roadside, 
and  prepared  to  eat  their  evening  meal  by  the  light 
of  dull-red  fires.  Fibby  cocked  one  ear  wistfully 
toward  the  flames,  but  held  on  through  the  gather- 
ing shadows,  and  Tarvin  smelt  the  acrid  juice  of 
bruised  camel's-thorn  beneath  his  horse's  hoofs. 
The  moon  rose  in  splendor  behind  him,  and, 
following  his  lurching  shadow,  he  overtook  a  naked 


182  THE  NAULAHKA. 

man  who  bore  over  his  shoulder  a  stick  loaded 
with  jingling  bells,  and  fled  panting  and  perspiring 
from  one  who  followed  hixii  armed  with  a  naked 
sword.  This  was  the  mail-carrier  and  his  escort  run- 
ning to  Gunnaur.  The  jingling  died  away  on  the 
dead  air,  and  Fibby  was  ambling  between  intermin- 
able lines  of  thorn-bushes  that  threw  mad  anus  to  the 
stars,  and  cast  shadows  as  solid  as  themselves  across 
the  road.  Some  beast  of  the  night  plunged  through 
the  thicket  alongside,  and  Fibby  snorted  in  panic. 
Then  a  porcupine  crossed  under  his  nose  with  a 
rustle  of  quills,  and  left  an  evil  stench  to  poison 
the  stillness  for  a  moment.  A  point  of  light 
gleamed  ahead,  where  a  bullock-cart  had  broken 
down,  and  the  drivers  were  sleeping  peacefully  till 
daylight  should  show  the  injury.  Here  Fibby 
stopped,  and  Tarvin,  through  the  magic  of  a  rupee, 
representing  fortune  to  the  rudely  awakened  sleep- 
ers, procured  food  and  a  little  water  for  him,  eased 
the  girths,  and  made  as  much  of  him  as  he  was 
disposed  to  permit.  On  starting  again,  Fibby  found 
his  second  wind,  and  with  it  there  woke  the  spirit 
of  daring  and  adventure  inherited  from  his  ances- 
tors, who  were  accustomed  to  take  their  masters 
thirty  leagues  in  a  day  for  the  sacking  of  a  town, 
to  sleep  by  a  lance  driven  into  the  earth  as  a 
picket,  and  to  return  whence  they  had  come  before 
the  ashes  of  the  houses  had  lost  heat.  So  Fibby 


A  STORY  OF  WEST   AND   EAST.  183 

lifted  his  tail  valiantly,  neighed,  and  began  to 
move. 

The  road  descended  for  miles,  crossing  the  dry 
beds  of  many  water-courses  and  once  a  broad  river, 
where  Fibby  stopped  for  another  drink,  and  would 
have  lain  down  to  roll  in  a  melon-bed  but  that 
his  rider  spurred  him  on  up  the  slope.  The  coun- 
try grew  more  fertile  at  every  mile,  and  rolled  in 
broader  waves.  Under  the  light  of  the  setting 
moon  the  fields  showed  silver- white  with  the  opium- 
poppy,  or  dark  with  sugar-cane. 

Poppy  and  sugar  ceased  together,  as  Fibby  topped 
a  long,  slow  ascent,  and  with  distended  nostrils 
snuffed  for  the  wind  of  the  morning.  He  knew 
that  the  day  would  bring  him  rest.  Tavin  peered 
forward  where  the  white  line  of  the  road  disap- 
peared in  the  gloom  of  velvety  scrub.  He  com- 
manded a  vast  level  plain  flanked  by  hills  of  soft 
outline  —  a  plain  that  in  the  dim  light  seemed  as 
level  as  the  sea.  Like  the  sea,  too,  it  bore  on  its 
breast  a  ship,  like  a  gigantic  monitor  with  a  sharp 
bow,  cutting  her  way  from  north  to  south;  such  a 
ship  as  man  never  yet  has  seen  —  two  miles  long, 
with  three  or  four  hundred  feet  free-board,  lonely, 
silent,  mastless,  without  lights,  a  derelict  of  the 
earth. 

"We  are  nearly  there,  Fib,  my  boy,"  said  Tar- 
vin,  drawing  rein,  and  scanning  the  monstrous 


184  THE  NAULAHKA. 

thing  by  the  starlight.  "We'll  get  as  close  as 
we  can,  and  then  wait  for  the  daylight  before  going 
aboard." 

They  descended  the  slope,  which  was  covered 
with  sharp  stones  and  sleeping  goats.  Then  the 
road  turned  sharply  to  the  left,  and  began  to  run 
parallel  to  the  ship.  Tarvin  urged  Fibby  into  a 
more  direct  path,  and  the  good  horse  blundered 
piteously  across  the  scrub-covered  ground,  cut  up 
and  channelled  by  the  rains  into  a  network  of  six- 
foot  ravines  and  gulches. 

Here  he  gave  out  with  a  despairing  grunt.  Tar- 
vin took  pity  on  him,  and,  fastening  him  to  a 
tree,  bade  him  think  of  his  sins  till  breakfast-time, 
and  dropped  from  his  back  into  a  dry  and  dusty 
water-hole.  Ten  steps  further,  and  the  scrub  was 
all  about  him,  whipping  him  across  the  brows, 
hooking  thorns  into  his  jacket,  and  looping  roots 
in  front  of  his  knees  as  he  pushed  on  up  an  ever- 
steepening  incline. 

At  last  Tarvin  was  crawling  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  grimed  from  head  to  foot,  and  hardly  to  be 
distinguished  from  the  wild  pigs  that  passed  like 
slate-colored  shadows  through  the  tangle  of  the 
thickets  on  their  way  to  their  rest.  Too  absorbed 
to  hear  them  grunt,  he  pulled  and  screwed  himself 
up  the  slope,  tugging  at  the  roots  as  though  he 
would  rend  the  Naulahka  from  the  bowels  of  the 


A  STORY  OF  WEST   AND   EAST.  185 

earth,  and  swearing  piously  at  every  step.  When 
he  stopped  to  wipe  the  sweat  from  his  face,  he 
found,  more  by  touch  than  by  eye,  that  he  knelt 
at  the  foot  of  a  wall  that  ran  up  into  the  stars. 
Fibby,  from  the  tangle  below,  was  neighing  dole- 
fully. 

"You're  not  hurt,  Fibby,"  he  gasped,  spitting 
out  some  fragments  of  dry  grass;  "you  aren't  on 
in  this  scene.  Nobody's  asking  you  to  fly  to- 
night," he  said,  looking  hopelessly  up  at  the  wall 
again,  and  whistling  softly  in  response  to  an  owl's 
hooting  overhead. 

He  began  to  pick  his  way  between  the  foot  of 
the  wall  and  the  scrub  that  grew  up  to  it,  press- 
ing one  hand  against  the  huge  cut  stones,  and 
holding  the  other  before  his  face.  A  fig-seed  had 
found  foothold  between  two  of  the  gigantic  slabs, 
and,  undisturbed  through  the  centuries,  had  grown 
into  an  arrogant,  gnarled  tree,  that  writhed  between 
the  fissures  and  heaved  the  stonework  apart.  Tar- 
vin  considered  for  a  while  whether  he  could  climb 
into  the  crook  of  the  lowest  branch,  then  moved 
on  a  few  steps,  and  found  the  wall  rent  from  top 
to  bottom  through  the  twenty  feet  of  its  thick- 
ness, allowing  passage  for  the  head  of  an  army. 

"Like  them,  exactly  like  them!"  he  mused.  "I 
might  have  expected  it.  To  build  a  wall  sixty 
feet  high,  and  put  an  eighty-foot  hole  in  it!  The 


186  THE  NAULAHKA. 

Naulalika  must  be  lying  out  on  a  bush,  or  a  child's 
playing  with  it,  and  —  I  can't  get  it!" 

He  plunged  through  the  gap,  and  found  himself 
amid  scattered  pillars,  slabs  of  stone,  broken  lin- 
tels, and  tumbled  tombs,  and  heard  a  low,  thick 
hiss  almost  under  his  riding-boots.  No  man  born 
of  woman  needs  to  be  instructed  in  the  voice  of 
the  serpent. 

Tarvin  jumped,  and  stayed  still.  Fibby's  neigh 
came  faintly  now.  The  dawn  wind  blew  through 
the  gap  in  the  wall,  and  Tarvin  wiped  his  fore- 
head with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief.  He  would  do 
no  more  till  the  light  came.  This  was  the  hour 
to  eat  and  drink;  also  to  stand  very  still,  because 
of  that  voice  from  the  ground. 

He  pulled  food  and  a  flask  from  his  pocket,  and, 
staring  before  him  in  every  direction,  ate  hungrily. 
The  loom  of  the  night  lifted  a  little,  and  he 
could  see  the  outline  of  some  great  building  a  few 
yards  away.  Beyond  this  were  other  shadows, 
faint  as  the  visions  in  a  dream  —  the  shadows  of 
yet  more  temples  and  lines  of  houses;  the  wind, 
blowing  among  them,  brought  back  a  rustle  of 
tossing  hedges. 

The  shadows  grew  more  distinct:  he  could  see 
that  he  was  standing  with  his  face  to  some  decayed 
tomb.  Then  his  jaw  fell,  for,  without  warning 
or  presage,  the  red  dawn  shot  up  behind  him,  and 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  187 

there  leaped  out  of  tlie  night  the  city  of  the  dead. 
Tall-built,  sharp-domed  palaces,  flushing  to  the 
color  of  blood,  revealed  the  horror  of  their  empti- 
ness, and  glared  at  the  day  that  pierced  them 
through  and  through. 

The  wind  passed  singing  down  the  empty  streets, 
and,  finding  none  to  answer,  returned,  chasing 
before  it  a  muttering  cloud  of  dust,  which  pres- 
ently whirled  itself  into  a  little  cyclone-funnel, 
and  laid  down  with  a  sigh. 

A  screen  of  fretted  marble  lay  on  the  dry  grass, 
where  it  had  fallen  from  some  window  above,  and 
a  gecko  crawled  over  it  to  sun  himself.  Already 
the  dawn  flush  had  passed.  The  hot  light  was 
everywhere,  and  a  kite  had  poised  himself  in  the 
parched  blue  sky.  The  day,  new-born,  might  have 
been  as  old  as  the  city.  It  seemed  to  Tarvin  that 
he  and  it  were  standing  still  to  hear  the  centuries 
race  by  on  the  wings  of  the  purposeless  dust. 

As  he  took  his  first  step  into  the  streets,  a  pea- 
cock stepped  from  the  threshold  of  a  lofty  red 
house,  and  spread  his  tail  in  the  splendor  of  the 
sun.  Tarvin  halted,  and  with  perfect  gravity  took 
off  his  hat  to  the  royal  bird,  where  it  blazed 
against  the  sculptures  on  the  wall,  the  sole  living 
thing  in  sight. 

The  silence  of  the  place  and  the  insolent  naked- 
ness of  the  empty  ways  lay  on  him  like  a  dead 


188  THE  NAULAHKA. 

weight.  For  a  long  time  he  did  not  care  to 
whistle,  but  rambled  aimlessly  from  one  wall  to 
another,  looking  at  the  gigantic  reservoirs,  dry 
and  neglected,  the  hollow  guard-houses  that  studded 
the  battlements,  the  time-riven  arches  that  spanned 
the  streets,  and,  above  all,  the  carven  tower  with 
a  shattered  roof  that  sprang  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  into  the  air,  for  a  sign  to  the  country-side 
that  the  royal  city  of  Gunnaur  was  not  dead,  but 
would  one  day  hum  with  men. 

It  was  from  this  tower,  incrusted  with  figures 
in  high  relief  of  beast  and  man,  that  Tarvin,  after 
a  heavy  climb,  looked  out  on  the  vast  sleeping 
land  in  the  midst  of  which  the  dead  city  lay.  He 
saw  the  road  by  which  he  had  come  in  the  night, 
dipping  and  reappearing  again  over  thirty  miles 
of  country,  saw  the  white  poppy-fields,  the  dull- 
brown  scrub,  and  the  unending  plain  to  the  north- 
ward, cut  by  the  shining  line  of  the  rail.  From 
his  aery  he  peered  forth  as  a  man  peers  from  a 
crow's-nest  at  sea;  for,  once  down  there  below 
in  the  city,  all  view  was  cut  off  by  the  battle- 
ments that  rose  like  bulwarks.  On  the  side  nearest 
to  the  railroad,  sloping  causeways,  paved  with 
stone,  ran  down  to  the  plain  under  many  gates, 
as  the  gangway  of  a  ship  when  it  is  let  down, 
and  through  the  gaps  in  the  walls  —  time  and  the 
trees  had  torn  their  way  to  and  fro  —  there  was 


A   STORY   OP  WEST  AND   EAST.  189 

nothing  to  be  seen  except  the  horizon,  which  might 
have  been  the  deep  sea. 

He  thought  of  Fibby  waiting  in  the  scrub  for 
his  breakfast,  and  made  haste  to  descend  to  the 
streets  again.  Remembering  the  essentials  of  his 
talk  with  Estes  as  to  the  position  of  the  Cow's 
Mouth,  he  passed  up  a  side-lane,  disturbing  the 
squirrels  and  monkeys  that  had  taken  up  their 
quarters  in  the  cool  dark  of  the  rows  of  empty 
houses.  The  last  house  ended  in  a  heap  of  ruins 
among  a  tangle  of  mimosa  and  tall  grass,  through 
which  ran  a  narrow  foot-track. 

Tarvin  marked  the  house  as  the  first  actual  ruin 
he  had  seen.  His  complaint  against  all  the  others, 
the  temples  and  the  palaces,  was  that  they  were 
not  ruined,  but  dead  —  empty,  swept,  and  gar- 
nished, with  the  seven  devils  of  loneliness  in  riot- 
ous possession.  In  time  —  in  a  few  thousand  years 
perhaps  —  the  city  would  crumble  away.  He  was 
distinctly  glad  that  one  house  at  least  had  set  the 
example. 

The  path  dropped  beneath  his  feet  on  a  shelf  of 
solid  rock  that  curved  over  like  the  edge  of  a 
waterfall.  Tarvin  took  only  one  step,  and  fell, 
for  the  rock  was  worn  into  deep  gutters,  smoother 
than  ice,  by  the  naked  feet  of  millions  who  had 
trodden  that  way  for  no  man  knew  how  many 
years.  When  he  rose  he  heard  a  malignant  chuc- 


190  THE  NAULAHKA. 

kle,  half  suppressed,  which  ended  in  a  choking 
cough,  ceased,  and  broke  out  anew.  Tarvin  regis- 
tered an  oath  to  find  that  scoffer  when  he  had 
found  the  necklace,  and  looked  to  his  foothold  more 
carefully.  At  this  point  it  seemed  that  the  Cow's 
Mouth  must  be  some  sort  of  disused  quarry  fringed 
to  the  lips  with  rank  vegetation. 

All  sight  of  what  lay  below  him  was  blocked 
by  the  thick  foliage  of  trees  that  leaned  forward, 
bowing  their  heads  together  as  night-watchers  hud- 
dle over  a  corpse.  Once  upon  a  time  there  had 
been  rude  steps  leading  down  the  almost  sheer 
descent,  but  the  naked  feet  had  worn  them  to 
glassy  knobs  and  lumps,  and  blown  dust  had  made 
a  thin  soil  in  their  chinks.  Tarvin  looked  long 
and  angrily,  because  the  laugh  came  from  the 
bottom  of  this  track,  and  then,  digging  his  heel 
into  the  mould,  began  to  let  himself  down  step 
by  step,  steadying  himself  by  the  tufts  of  grass. 
Before  he  had  realized  it,  he  was  out  of  reach  of 
the  sun,  and  neck-deep  in  tall  grass.  Still  there 
was  a  sort  of  pathway  under  his  feet,  down  the 
almost  perpendicular  side.  He  gripped  the  grass, 
and  went  on.  The  earth  beneath  his  elbows  grew 
moist,  and  the  rock  where  it  cropped  out  showed 
rotten  with  moisture  and  coated  with  moss.  The 
air  grew  cold  and  damp.  Another  plunge  down- 
ward revealed  to  him  what  the  trees  were  guard- 


A   STORY  OF  WEST   AND   BAST.  191 

ing,  as  he  drew  breath  on  a  narrow  stone  ledge. 
They  sprung  from  the  masonry  round  the  sides  of 
a  square  tank  of  water  so  stagnant  that  it  had 
corrupted  past  corruption,  and  lay  dull-blue  under 
the  blackness  of  the  trees.  The  drought  of  summer 
had  shrunk  it,  and  a  bank  of  dried  mud  ran  round 
its  sides.  The  head  of  a  sunken  stone  pillar, 
carved  with  monstrous  and  obscene  gods,  reared 
itself  from  the  water  like  the  head  of  a  tortoise 
swimming  to  land.  The  birds  moved  in  the  sunlit 
branches  of  the  trees  far  overhead.  Little  twigs 
and  berries  dropped  into  the  water,  and  the  noise 
of  their  fall  echoed  from  side  to  side  of  the  tank 
that  received  no  sunlight. 

The  chuckle  that  had  so  annoyed  Tarvin  broke 
out  again  as  he  listened.  This  time  it  was  behind 
him,  and,  wheeling  sharply,  he  saw  that  it  came 
from  a  thin  stream  of  water  that  spurted  fitfully 
from  the  rudely  carved  head  of  a  cow,  and  dripped 
along  a  stone  spout  into  the  heavy  blue  pool.  Be- 
hind that  spout  the  moss-grown  rock  rose  sheer. 
This,  then,  was  the  Cow's  Mouth. 

The  tank  lay  at  the  bottom  of  a  shaft,  and  the 
one  way  down  to  it  was  that  by  which  Tarvin  had 
come  —  a  path  that  led  from  the  sunlight  to  the 
chill  and  mould  of  a  vault. 

"Well,  this  is  kind  of  the  King,  anyhow,"  he 
said,  pacing  the  ledge  cautiously,  for  it  was  almost 


192  THE  NAULAHKA. 

as  slippery  as  the  pathway  on  the  rocks.  "Now, 
what's  the  use  of  this?"  he  continued,  returning. 
The  ledge  ran  only  round  one  side  of  the  tank, 
and,  unless  he  trusted  to  the  mud-banks  on  the 
other  three,  there  was  no  hope  of  continuing  his 
exploration  further.  The  Cow's  Mouth  chuckled 
again,  as  a  fresh  jet  of  water  forced  its  way  through 
the  formless  jaws. 

"  Oh,  dry  up !  "  he  muttered  impatiently,  staring 
through  the  half  light  that  veiled  all. 

He  dropped  a  piece  of  rock  on  the  mud  under 
the  lip  of  the  ledge,  then  tested  it  with  a  cautious 
foot,  found  that  it  bore,  and  decided  to  walk  round 
the  tank.  As  there  were  more  trees  to  the  right 
of  the  ledge  than  to  the  left,  he  stepped  off  on 
the  mud  from  the  right,  holding  cautiously  to  the 
branches  and  the  tufts  of  grass  in  case  of  any  false 
step. 

When  the  tank  was  first  made  its  rock  walls  had 
been  perfectly  perpendicular,  but  time  and  weather 
and  the  war  of  the  tree  roots  had  broken  and 
scarred  the  stone  in  a  thousand  places,  giving  a 
scant  foothold  here  and  there. 

Tarvin  crept  along  the  right  side  of  the  tank, 
resolved,  whatever  might  come,  to  go  round  it. 
The  gloom  deepened  as  he  came  directly  under  the 
largest  fig-tree,  throwing  a  thousand  arms  across 
the  water,  and  buttressing  the  rock  with  snake-like 


A  STOBY  OP  WEST  AND  EAST.  193 

roots  as  thick  as  a  man's  body.  Here,  sitting  on 
a  bole,  he  rested  and  looked  at  the  ledge.  The 
sun,  shooting  down  the  path  that  he  had  trampled 
through  the  tall  grass,  threw  one  patch  of  light  on 
the  discolored  marble  of  the  ledge  and  on  the  blunt 
muzzle  of  the  cow's  head;  but  where  Tarvin  rested 
under  the  fig-tree  there  was  darkness,  and  an  intol- 
erable scent  of  musk.  The  blue  water  was  not 
inviting  to  watch;  he  turned  his  face  inward  to 
the  rock  and  the  trees,  and,  looking  up,  caught 
the  emerald-green  of  a  parrot's  wing  moving  among 
the  upper  branches.  Never  in  his  life  had  Tarvin 
so  acutely  desired  the  blessed  sunshine.  He  was 
cold  and  damp,  and  conscious  that  a  gentle  breeze 
was  blowing  in  his  face  from  between  the  snaky 
tree  roots. 

It  was  the  sense  of  space  more  than  actual  sight 
that  told  him  that  there  was  a  passage  before  him 
shrouded  by  the  roots  on  which  he  sat,  and  it 
was  his  racial  instinct  of  curiosity  rather  than  any 
love  of  adventure  that  led  him  to  throw  himself  at 
the  darkness,  which  parted  before  and  closed  behind 
him.  He  could  feel  that  his  feet  were  treading 
on  cut  stone  overlaid  with  a  thin  layer  of  dried 
mud,  and,  extending  his  arms,  found  masonry  on 
each  side.  Then  he  lighted  a  match,  and  con- 
gratulated himself  that  his  ignorance  of  cows' 
mouths  had  not  led  him  to  bring  a  lantern  with 

o 


194  THE  NAULAHKA. 

him.  The  first  match  flickered  in  the  draft  and 
went  out,  and  before  the  flame  had  died  he  heard 
a  sound  in  front  of  him  like  the  shivering  back- 
ward draw  of  a  wave  on  a  pebbly  beach.  The  noise 
was  not  inspiriting,  but  Tarvin  pressed  on  for  a 
few  steps,  looking  back  to  see  that  the  dull  glim- 
mer of  the  outer  day  was  still  behind  him,  and 
lighted  another  match,  guarding  it  with  his  hands. 
At  his  next  step  he  shuddered  from  head  to  foot. 
His  heel  had  crashed  through  a  skull  on  the 
ground. 

The  match  showed  him  that  he  had  quitted  the 
passage,  and  was  standing  in  a  black  space  of 
unknown  dimensions.  He  fancied  that  he  saw 
the  outline  of  a  pillar,  or  rows  of  pillars,  flicker- 
ing drunkenly  in  the  gloom,  and  was  all  too  sure 
that  the  ground  beneath  him  was  strewn  with 
bones.  Then  he  became  aware  of  pale  emerald 
eyes  watching  him  fixedly,  and  perceived  that  there 
was  deep  breathing  in  the  place  other  than  his 
own.  He  flung  the  match  down,  the  eyes  retreated, 
there  was  a  wild  rattle  and  crash  in  the  darkness, 
a  howl  that  might  have  been  bestial  or  human,  and 
Tarvin,  panting  between  the  tree  roots,  swung  him- 
self to  the  left,  and  fled  back  over  the  mud-banks 
to  the  ledge,  where  he  stood,  his  back  to  the  Cow's 
Mouth  and  his  revolver  in  his  hand. 

In  that  moment  of  waiting  for  what  might  emerge 


A   STORY  OF  WEST   AND  EAST.  195 

from  the  hole  in  the  side  of  the  tank  Tarvin  tasted 
all  the  agonies  of  pure  physical  terror.  Then  he 
noted  with  the  tail  of  his  eye  that  a  length  of 
mud-bank  to  his  left  —  half  the  mud-bank,  in  fact 
—  was  moving  slowly  into  the  water.  It  floated 
slowly  across  the  tank,  a  long  welt  of  filth  and 
slime.  Nothing  came  out  of  the  hole  between  the 
fig-roots,  but  the  mud-bank  grounded  under  the 
ledge  almost  at  Tarvin ls  feet,  and  opened  horny 
eyelids,  heavy  with  green  slime. 

The  Western  man  is  familiar  with  many  strange 
tilings,  but  the  alligator  does  not  come  within  the 
common  range  of  his  experiences.  A  second  time 
Tarvin  moved  from  point  to  point  without  being 
able  to  explain  the  steps  he  took  to  that  end.  He 
found  himself  sitting  in  the  sunshine  at  the  head 
of  the  slippery  path  that  led  downward.  His  hands 
were  full  of  the  wholesome  jungle-grass  and  the 
clean,  dry  dust.  He  could  see  the  dead  city  about 
him,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  home. 

The  Cow's  Mouth  chuckled  and  choked  out  of 
sight  as  it  had  chuckled  since  the  making  of  the 
tank,  and  that  was  at  the  making  of  time.  A 
man,  old,  crippled,  and  all  but  naked,  came  through 
the  high  grass  leading  a  little  kid,  and  calling 
mechanically  from  time  to  time,  "-4.0,  bhai!  Ao!" 
("Come,  brother!  Come!")  Tarvin  marvelled  first 
at  his  appearance  on  earth  at  all,  and  next  that  he 


196  THE  NAULAHKA. 

could  so  unconcernedly  descend  the  path  to  the 
darkness  and  the  horror  below.  He  did  not  know 
that  the  sacred  crocodile  of  the  Cow's  Mouth  was 
waiting  for  his  morning  meal,  as  he  had  waited 
in  the  days  when  Gunnaur  was  peopled,  and  its 
queens  never  dreamed  of  death. 


A  8TOE\  OF  WEST  AND   EAST.  197 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Beat  off  in  our  last  fight  were  we  ? 
The  greater  need  to  seek  the  sea. 
For  Fortune  changeth  as  the  moon 
To  caravel  and  picaroon. 
Then,  Eastward  Ho !  or  Westward  Ho ! 
Whichever  wind  may  meetest  blow. 
Our  quarry  sails  on  either  sea, 
Fat  prey  for  sucn  bold  lads  as  we, 
And  every  sun-dried  buccaneer 
Must  hand  and  reef  and  watch  and  steer, 
And  bear  great  wrath  of  sea  and  sky 
Before  the  plate-ships  wallow  by. 
Now,  as  our  tall  bow  takes  the  foam, 
Let  no  man  turn  his  heart  to  home 
Save  to  desire  land  the  more 
And  larger  warehouse  for  his  store 
When  treasure  won  from  Santos  Bay 
Shall  make  our  sea-washed  village  gay.* 

Blackbeard. 

and  Tarvin  ate  their  breakfast  together, 
half  an  hour  later,  in  the  blotched  shadows  of  the 
scrub  below  the  wall.  The  horse  buried  his  nose 
into  his  provender,  and  said  nothing.  The  man 
was  equally  silent.  Once  or  twice  he  rose  to  his 
feet,  scanned  the  irregular  line  of  wall  and  bastion, 
and  shook  his  head.  He  had  no  desire  to  return 


*  Copyright,  1802,  by  Macmillan  &  Co. 


198  THE  NAULAHKA. 

there.  As  the  sun  grew  fiercer  he  found  a  resting- 
place  in  the  heart  of  a  circle  of  thorn,  tucked  the 
saddle  under  his  head,  and  lay  down  to  sleep. 
Fibby,  rolling  luxuriously,  followed  his  master's 
example.  The  two  took  their  rest  while  the  air 
quivered  with  heat  and  the  hum  of  insects,  and 
the  browsing  goats  clicked  and  pattered  through 
the  water-channels. 

The  shadow  of  the  Tower  of  Glory  lengthened, 
fell  across  the  walls,  and  ran  far  across  the  plain; 
the  kites  began  to  drop  from  the  sky  by  twos  and 
threes;  and  naked  children,  calling  one  to  another, 
collected  the  goats  and  drove  them  to  the  smoky 
villages  before  Tarvin  roused  himself  for  the  home- 
ward journey. 

He  halted  Fibby  once  for  a  last  look  at  Gun- 
naur  as  they  reached  the  rising  ground.  The  sun- 
light had  left  the  walls,  and  they  ran  black  against 
the  misty  levels  and  the  turquoise-blue  of  the  twi- 
light. Fires  twinkled  from  a  score  of  puts  about 
the  base  of  the  city,  but  along  the  ridge  of  the 
desolation  itself  there  was  no  light. 

"Mum's  the  word,  Fibby,"  said  Tarvin,  picking 
up  his  reins.  "We  don't  think  well  of  this  pic- 
nic, and  we  won't  mention  it  at  Rhatore." 

He  chirruped,  and  Fibby  went  home  as  swiftly 
as  he  could  lay  hoof  to  stone,  only  once  suggesting 
refreshment.  Tarvin  said  nothing  till  the  end  of 


A   STORY  OF    WEST   AND   BAST.  199 

the  long  ride,  when  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief 
as  he  dismounted  in  the  fresh  sunlight  of  the 
morning. 

Sitting  in  his  room,  it  seemed  to  him  a  waste 
of  a  most  precious  opportunity  that  he  had  not 
manufactured  a  torch  in  Gunnaur  and  thoroughly 
explored  the  passage.  But  the  memory  of  the 
green  eyes  and  the  smell  of  musk  came  back  to 
him,  and  he  shivered.  The  thing  was  not  to  be 
done.  Never  again,  for  any  consideration  under 
the  wholesome  light  of  the  sun,  would  he,  who 
feared  nothing,  set  foot  in  the  Cow's  Mouth. 

It  was  his  pride  that  he  knew  when  he  had  had 
enough.  He  had  had  enough  of  the  Cow's  Mouth; 
and  the  only  thing  for  which  he  still  wished  in 
connection  with  it  was  to  express  his  mind  about 
it  to  the  Maharajah.  Unhappily,  this  was  impos- 
sible. That  idle  monarch,  who,  he  now  saw  plainly, 
had  sent  him  there  either  in  a  mood  of  luxurious 
sportiveness  or  to  throw  him  off  the  scent  of  the 
necklace,  remained  the  only  man  from  whom  he 
could  look  for  final  victory.  It  was  not  to  the 
Maharajah  that  he  could  afford  to  say  all  that  he 
thought. 

Fortunately  the  Maharajah  was  too  much  enter- 
tained by  the  work  which  Tarvin  immediately  insti- 
tuted on  the  Amet  River  to  inquire  particularly 
whether  his  young  friend  had  sought  the  Naulahka 


200  THE  NAULAHKA. 

at  the  Gye  Mukh.  Tarvin  had  sought  an  audi- 
ence with  the  King  the  morning  after  his  return 
from  that  black  spot,  and,  with  the  face  of  a  man 
who  had  never  known  fear  and  who  lacks  the 
measure  of  disappointments,  gayly  demanded  the 
fulfilment  of  the  King's  promise.  Having  failed 
in  one  direction  on  a  large  scale,  he  laid  the  first 
brick  on  the  walls  of  a  new  structure  without 
delay,  as  the  people  of  Topaz  had  begun  to  build 
their  town  anew  the  morning  after  the  fire.  His 
experience  at  the  Gye  Mukh  only  sharpened  his 
determination,  adding  to  it  a  grim  willingness  to 
get  even  with  the  man  who  had  sent  him  there. 

The  Maharajah,  who  felt  in  especial  need  of 
amusement  that  morning,  was  very  ready  to  make 
good  his  promise,  and  ordered  that  the  long  man 
who  played  pachisi  should  be  granted  all  the  men 
he  could  use.  With  the  energy  of  disgust,  and 
with  a  hot  memory  of  the  least  assured  and  com- 
fortable moments  of  his  life  burning  in  his  breast, 
Tarvin  flung  himself  on  the  turning  of  the  river 
and  the  building  of  his  dam.  It  was  necessary, 
it  seemed,  in  the  land  upon  which  he  had  fallen, 
to  raise  a  dust  to  hide  one's  ends.  He  would  raise 
a  dust,  and  it  should  be  on  the  same  scale  as  the 
catastrophe  which  he  had  just  encountered  —  thor- 
ough, business-like,  uncompromising. 

He   raised  it,    in   fact,    in   a  stupendous   cloud. 


A  STOR?  Off   WEST  AND  EAST.  201 

Since  the  state  was  founded  no  one  had  seen  any- 
thing like  it.  The  Maharajah  lent  him  all  the 
convict  labor  of  his  jails,  and  Tarvin  marched  the 
little  host  of  leg-ironed  kaidies  into  camp  at  a 
point  five  miles  beyond  the  city  walls,  and  sol- 
emnly drew  up  his  plans  for  the  futile  damming 
of  the  barren  Amet.  His  early  training  as  a  civil 
engineer  helped  him  to  lay  out  a  reasonable  plan 
of  operations,  and  to  give  a  semblance  of  reality 
to  his  work.  His  notion  was  to  back  up  the  river 
by  means  of  a  dam  at  a  point  where  it  swept 
around  a  long  curve,  and  to  send  it  straight  across 
the  plain  by  excavating  a  deep  bed  for  it.  When 
this  was  completed  the  present  bed  of  the  river 
would  lie  bare  for  several  miles,  and  if  there  were 
any  gold  there,  as  Tarvin  said  to  himself,  then 
would  be  the  time  to  pick  it  up.  Meanwhile  his 
operations  vastly  entertained  the  King,  who  rode 
out  every  morning  and  watched  him  directing  his 
small  army  for  an  hour  or  more.  The  marchings 
and  countermarchings  of  the  mob  of  convicts  with 
baskets,  hoes,  shovels,  and  pannier-laden  donkeys, 
the  prodigal  blasting  of  rocks,  and  the  general 
bustle  and  confusion,  drew  the  applause  of  the 
King,  for  whom  Tarvin  always  reserved  his  best 
blasts.  This  struck  him  as  only  fair,  as  the  King 
was  paying  for  the  powder,  and,  indeed,  for  the 
entire  entertainment. 


202  THE  NAULAHKA. 

Among  the  unpleasant  necessities  of  his  position 
was  the  need  of  giving  daily  to  Colonel  Nolan,  to 
the  King,  and  to  all  the  drummers  at  the  rest- 
house,  whenever  they  might  choose  to  ask  him,  his 
reasons  for  damming  the  Amet.  The  great  Indian 
Government  itself  also  presently  demanded  his 
reasons,  in  writing,  for  damming  the  Amet ;  Colonel 
Nolan's  reasons,  in  writing,  for  allowing  the  Amet 
to  be  dammed;  and  the  King's  reasons  for  allowing 
anybody  but  a  duly  authorized  agent  of  the  Gov- 
ernment to  dam  the  Amet.  This  was  accompanied 
by  a  request  for  further  information.  To  these 
inquiries  Tarvin,  for  his  part,  returned  an  evasive 
answer,  and  felt  that  he  was  qualifying  himself 
for  his  political  career  at  home.  Colonel  Nolan 
explained  officially  to  his  superiors  that  the  con- 
victs were  employed  in  remunerative  labor,  and, 
unofficially,  that  the  Maharajah  had  been  so  phe- 
nomenally good  for  some  time  past  (being  kept 
amused  by  this  American  stranger),  that  it  would 
be  a  thousand  pities  to  interrupt  the  operations. 
Colonel  Nolan  was  impressed  by  the  fact  that  Tar- 
vin was  the  Hon.  Nicholas  Tarvin,  and  a  member 
of  the  legislature  of  one  of  the  United  States. 

The  Government,  knowing  something  of  the  irre- 
pressible race  who  stride  booted  into  the  council- 
halls  of  kings,  and  demand  concessions  for  oil-boring 
from  Arracan  to  the  Peshin,  said  no  more,  but 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  203 

asked  to  be  supplied  with  information  from  time  to 
time  as  to  the  progress  of  the  stranger's  work. 
When  Tarvin  heard  this  he  s}-mpathized  with  the 
Indian  Government.  He  understood  this  thirst  for 
information;  he  wanted  some  himself  as  to  the 
present  whereabouts  of  the  Naulahka;  also  touch- 
ing the  time  it  would  take  Kate  to  find  out  that 
she  wanted  him  more  than  the  cure  of  any  misery 
whatever. 

At  least  twice  a  week,  in  fancy,  he  gave  up  the 
Naulahka  definitely,  returned  to  Topaz,  and  re- 
sumed the  business  of  a  real-estate  and  insurance 
agent.  He  drew  a  long  breath  after  each  of  these 
decisions,  with  the  satisfying  recollection  that  there 
was  still  one  spot  on  the  earth's  surface  where  a 
man  might  come  directly  at  his  desires  if  he  pos- 
sessed the  sand  and  the  hustle;  where  he  could 
walk  a  straight  path  to  his  ambition;  and  where 
he  did  not  by  preference  turn  five  corners  to  reach 
an  object  a  block  away. 

Sometimes,  as  he  grilled  patiently  in  the  river- 
bed under  the  blighting  rays  of  the  Indian  sun, 
he  would  heretically  blaspheme  the  Naulahka,  re- 
fusing to  believe  in  its  existence,  and  persuading 
himself  that  it  was  as  grotesque  a  lie  as  the  King's 
parody  of  a  civilized  government,  or  as  Dhunpat 
Rai's  helpful  surgery.  Yet  from  a  hundred  sources 
he  heard  of  the  existence  of  that  splendor,  only 
never  in  reply  to  a  direct  question. 


204  THE  NAULAHKA. 

Dhunpat  Rai,  in  particular  (once  weak  enough 
to  complain  of  the  new  lady  doctor's  "excessive 
zeal  and  surplusage  administration "),  had  given 
him  an  account  that  made  his  mouth  water.  But 
Dhunpat  Rai  had  not  seen  the  necklace  since  the 
crowning  of  the  present  King,  fifteen  years  before. 
The  very  convicts  on  the  works,  squabbling  over  the 
distribution  of  food,  spoke  of  millet  as  being  as 
costly  as  the  Naulahka.  Twice  the  Maharaj  Kun- 
war,  babbling  vaingloriously  to  his  big  friend  of 
what  he  would  do  when  he  came  to  the  throne,  con- 
cluded his  confidences  with,  "And  then  I  shall 
wear  the  Naulahka  in  my  turban  all  day  long." 

But  when  Tarvin  asked  him  where  that  precious 
necklace  lived,  the  Maharaj  Kunwar  shook  his 
head,  answering  sweetly,  "I  do  not  know." 

The  infernal  thing  seemed  to  be  a  myth,  a  word, 
a  proverb — •  anything  rather  than  the  finest  neck- 
lace in  the  world.  In  the  intervals  of  blasting 
and  excavation  he  would  make  futile  attempts  to 
come  upon  its  track.  He  took  the  city  ward  by 
ward,  and  explored  every  temple  in  each;  he  rode, 
under  pretence  of  archaeological  study,  to  the  out- 
lying forts  and  ruined  palaces  that  lay  beyond  the 
city  in  the  desert,  and  roved  restlessly  through  the 
mausoleums  that  held  the  ashes  of  the  dead  kings 
of  Rhatore.  He  told  himself  a  hundred  times  that 
he  knew  each  quest  to  be  hopeless;  but  ha  needed 


A  STORY   OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  205 

tlie  consolation  of  persistent  search.  And  the 
search  was  always  vain. 

Tarvin  fought  his  impatience  when  he  rode  abroad 
with  the  Maharajah.  At  the  palace,  which  he 
visited  at  least  once  a  day  under  pretence  of  talk- 
ing about  the  dam,  he  devoted  himself  more  sedu- 
lously than  ever  to  pachisi.  It  pleased  the  Maha- 
rajah in  those  days  to  remove  himself  from  the  white 
marble  pavilion  in  the  orange-garden,  where  he 
usually  spent  the  spring  months,  to  Sitabhai's  wing 
of  the  red-stone  palace,  and  to  sit  in  the  court-yard 
watching  trained  parrots  firing  little  cannons,  and 
witnessing  combats  between  fighting  quail  or  great 
gray  apes  dressed  in  imitation  of  English  officers. 
When  Colonel  Nolan  appeared  the  apes  were  hastily 
dismissed;  but  Tarvin  was  allowed  to  watch  the 
play  throughout,  when  he  was  not  engaged  on  the 
dam.  He  was  forced  to  writhe  in  inaction  and  in 
wonder  about  his  necklace,  while  these  childish 
games  went  forward;  but  he  constantly  kept  the 
corner  of  an  eye  upon  the  movements  of  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar.  There,  at  least,  his  wit  could  serve  some 
one. 

The  Maharajah  had  given  strict  orders  that  the 
child  should  obey  all  Kate's  instructions.  Even 
his  heavy  eyes  noted  an  improvement  in  the  health 
of  the  little  one,  and  Tarvin  was  careful  that  he 
should  know  that  the  credit  belonged  to  Kate 


206  THE  NAULAHKA. 

alone.  With  impish  perversity  the  young  Prince, 
who  had  never  received  an  order  in  his  life  before, 
learned  to  find  joy  in  disobedience,  and  devoted  his 
wits,  his  escort,  and  his  barouche  to  gamboling  in 
the  wing  of  the  palace  belonging  to  Sitabhai. 
There  he  found  gray-headed  flatterers  by  the  score, 
who  abased  themselves  before  him,  and  told  him 
what  manner  of  king  he  should  be  in  the  years 
to  come.  There  also  were  pretty  dancing-girls, 
who  sang  him  songs,  and  would  have  corrupted  his 
mind  but  that  it  was  too  young  to  receive  corrup- 
tion. There  were,  besides,  apes  and  peacocks  and 
jugglers, — new  ones  every  day,  —  together  with 
dancers  on  the  slack  rope,  and  wonderful  packing- 
cases  from  Calcutta,  out  of  which  he  was  allowed 
to  choose  ivory-handled  pistols  and  little  gold- 
hilted  swords  with  seed-pearls  set  in  a  groove  along 
the  middle,  and  running  musically  up  and  down 
as  he  waved  the  blade  round  his  head.  Finally,  * 
the  sacrifice  of  a  goat  in  an  opal  and  ivory  temple 
in  the  heart  of  the  women's  quarters  which  he 
might  watch,  allured  him  that  way.  Against  these 
enticements  Kate,  moody,  grave,  distracted,  her 
eyes  full  of  the  miseries  on  which  it  was  her  daily 
lot  to  look,  and  her  heart  torn  with  the  curelessness 
of  it  all,  could  offer  only  little  childish  games  in 
the  missionary's  drawing-room.  The  heir  apparent 
to  the  throne  did  not  care  for  leap-frog,  which  he 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  207 

deemed  in  the  highest  degree  undignified;  nor  yet 
for  puss-in-the-corner,  which  seemed  to  him  over- 
active;  nor  for  tennis,  which  he  understood  was 
played  by  his  brother  princes,  but  which  to  him 
appeared  no  part  of  a  Rajput's  education.  Some- 
times, when  he  was  tired  (and  on  rare  occasions 
when  he  escaped  to  Sitabhai's  wing  it  was  observ- 
able that  he  returned  very  tired  indeed),  he  would 
listen  long  and  intently  to  the  stories  of  battle  and 
siege  which  Kate  read  to  him,  and  would  scandal- 
ize her  at  the  end  of  the  tale  by  announcing,  with 
flashing  eye: 

"When  I  am  king  I  will  make  my  army  do  all 
those  things." 

It  was  not  in  Kate's  nature  —  she  would  have 
thought  it  in  the  highest  degree  wrong  —  to  refrain 
from  some  little  attempt  at  religious  instruction. 
But  here  the  child  retreated  into  the  stolidity  of 
the  East,  and  only  said: 

"All  these  things  are  very  good  for  you,  Kate, 
but  all  my  gods  are  very  good  for  me;  and  if  my 
father  knew,  he  would  be  angry." 

"And  what  do  you  worship?"  asked  Kate,  pity- 
ing the  young  pagan  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart. 

"My  sword  and  my  horse,"  answered  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar;  and  he  half  drew  the  jewelled  sabre  that 
was  his  inseparable  companion,  returning  it  with  a 
resolute  clank  that  closed  the  discussion. 


208  THE  NAULAHKA- 

But  it  was  impossible,  lie  discovered,  to  evade 
the  long  man  Tarvin  as  he  evaded  Kate.  He  re- 
sented being  called  "bub,"  nor  did  he  approve  of 
"little  man."  But  Tarvin  could  drawl  the  word 
"Prince"  with  a  quiet  deference  that  made  the 
young  Rajput  almost  suspect  himself  the  subject 
of  a  jest.  And  yet  Tarvin  Sahib  treated  him  as  a 
man,  and  allowed  him,  under  due  precautions,  to 
handle  his  mighty  "gun,"  which  was  not  a  gun, 
but  a  pistol.  And  once,  when  the  Prince  had 
coaxed  the  keeper  of  the  horse  into  allowing  him 
to  bestride  an  unmanageable  mount,  Tarvin,  riding 
up,  had  picked  him  out  of  the  depths  of  the  velvet 
saddle,  set  him  on  his  own  saddle-bow,  and,  in 
the  same  cloud  of  dust,  shown  him  how,  in  his 
own  country,  they  laid  the  reins  on  one  side  or 
the  other  of  the  neck  of  their  cattle-ponies  to  guide 
them  in  pursuit  of  a  steer  broken  from  the  herd. 

The  trick  of  being  lifted  from  his  saddle,  appeal- 
ing to  the  "  circus "  latent  in  the  boy  breast  even 
of  an  Eastern  prince,  struck  the  Maharaj  as  so 
amusing  that  he  insisted  on  exhibiting  it  before 
Kate;  and  as  Tarvin  was  a  necessary  figure  in  the 
performance,  he  allured  him  into  helping  him  with 
it  one  day  before  the  house  of  the  missionary.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Estes  came  out  upon  the  veranda  with 
Kate  and  watched  the  exhibition,  and  the  mission- 
ary pursued  it  with  applause  and  requests  for  a 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  209 

repetition,  which,  having  been  duly  given,  Mrs. 
Estes  asked  Tarvin  if  he  would  not  stay  to  dinner 
with  them  since  he  was  there.  Tarvin  glanced 
doubtfully  at  Kate  for  permission,  and,  by  a  pro- 
cess of  reasoning  best  known  to  lovers,  construed 
the  veiling  of  her  eyes  and  the  turning  of  her 
head  into  assent. 

After  dinner,  as  they  sat  on  the  veranda  in  the 
starlight,  "Do  you  really  mind?"  he  asked. 

"What?"  asked  she,  lifting  her  sober  eyes  and 
letting  them  fall  upon  him. 

"My  seeing  you  sometimes.  I  know  you  don't 
like  it;  but  it  will  help  me  to  look  after  you.  You 
must  see  by  this  time  that  you  need  looking  after." 

"Oh,  no." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Tarvin,  almost  humbly. 

"I  mean  I  don't  need  looking  after." 

"But  you  don't  dislike  it?" 

"It's  good  of  you,"  she  said  impartially. 

"Well,  then,  it  will  be  bad  of  you  not  to  like 
it." 

Kate  had  to  smile.  "I  guess  I  like  it,"  she 
replied. 

"And  you  will  let  me  come  once  in  a  while? 
You  can't  think  what  the  rest-house  is.  Those 
drummers  will  kill  me  yet.  And  the  coolies  at 
the  dam  are  not  in  my  set." 

"Well,   since  you're  here.      But  you  ought  not 


210  THE  NAULAHKA. 

to  be  here.  Do  me  a  real  kindness,  and  go  away, 
Nick." 

"Give  me  an  easier  one." 

"But  why  are  you  here?  You  can't  show  any 
rational  reason." 

"Yes;  that's  what  the  British  Government  says. 
But  I  brought  my  reason  along." 

He  confessed  his  longing  for  something  homely 
and  natural  and  American  after  a  day's  work  under 
a  heathen  and  raging  sun;  and  when  he  put  it 
in  this  light,  Kate  responded  on  another  side.  She 
had  been  brought  up  with  a  sense  of  responsibility 
for  making  young  men  feel  at  home;  and  he  cer- 
tainly felt  at  home  when  she  was  able  to  produce, 
two  or  three  evenings  later,  a  Topaz  paper  sent  her 
by  her  father.  Tarvin  pounced  on  it,  and  turned 
the  flimsy  four  pages  inside  out,  and  then  back 
again. 

He  smacked  his  lips.  "Oh,  good,  good,  good!" 
he  murmured  relishingly.  "Don't  the  advertise- 
ments look  nice  ?  What's  the  matter  with  Topaz  ?  " 
cried  he,  holding  the  sheet  from  him  at  arm's- 
length,  and  gazing  ravenously  up  and  down  its 
columns.  "Oh,  she's  all  right."  The  cooing, 
musical  singsong  in  which  he  uttered  this  conse- 
crated phrase  was  worth  going  a  long  way  to  hear. 
"Say,  we're  coming  on,  aren't  we?  We're  not 
lagging  nor  loafing,  nor  fooling  our  time  away,  if 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  211 

we  haven't  got  the  Three  C.'s  yet.  We're  keeping 
up  with  the  procession.  Hi-yi!  look 'at  the  'Rust- 
ler Rootlets'  —  just  about  a  stickful!  Why,  the 
poor  old  worm-eaten  town  is  going  sound,  sound 
asleep  in  her  old  age,  isn't  she?  Think  of  taking 
a  railroad  there'  Listen  to  this: 

"Milo  C.  Lambert,  the  owner  of  'Lambert's  Last 
Ditch,'  has  a  car-load  of  good  ore  on  the  dump,  but,  like 
all  the  rest  of  us,  don't  find  it  pays  to  ship  without  a 
railroad  line  nearer  than  fifteen  miles.  Milo  says  Colo- 
rado won't  be  good  enough  for  him  after  he  gets  his  ore 
away. 

"I  should  think  not.  Come  to  Topaz,  Milo! 
And  this: 

"  When  the  Three  C.'s  comes  into  the  city  in  the  fall 
we  sha'n't  be  hearing  this  talk  about  hard  times.  Mean- 
time it's  an  injustice  to  the  town,  which  all  honest  citi- 
zens should  resent  and  do  their  best  to  put  down,  to 
speak  of  Rustler  as  taking  a  back  seat  to  any  town  of  its 
age  in  the  State.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Rustler  was  never 
more  prosperous.  With  mines  which  produced  last  year 
ore  valued  at  a  total  of  $1,200,000,  with  six  churches 
of  different  denominations,  with  a  young  but  prosperous 
and  growing  academy  which  is  destined  to  take  a  front 
rank  among  American  schools,  with  a  record  of  new 
buildings  erected  during  the  past  year  equal  if  not  su- 
perior to  any  town  in  the  mountains,  and  with  a  popula- 
tion of  lively  and  determined  business  men,  Rustler  bids 
fair  in  the  coming  year  to  be  worthy  of  her  name. 

"Who  said  'afraid'?  We're  not  hurt.  Hear  us 
whistle.  But  I'm  sorry  Heckler  let  that  into  his 


212  THE  NATTLAHKA. 

correspondence, "  he  added,  with  a  momentary  frown. 
"Some  of  our  Topaz  citizens  might  miss  the  fun 
of  it,  and  go  over  to  Rustler  to  wait  for  the  Three 
C.  's.  Coming  in  the  fall,  is  it  ?  Oh,  dear !  Oh,  dear, 
dear,  dear!  This  is  the  way  they  amuse  themselves 
while  they  dangle  their  legs  over  Big  Chief  Moun- 
tain and  wait  for  it: 

"Our  merchants  have  responded  to  the  recent  good 
feeling  which  has  pervaded  the  town  since  word  came 
that  President  Mutrie,  on  his  return  to  Denver,  was 
favorably  considering  the  claims  of  Rustler.  Robbins 
has  his  front  windows  prettily  decorated  and  filled  with 
fancy  articles.  His  store  seems  to  be  the  most  popular 
for  the  youngsters  who  have  a  nickle  or  two  to  spend. 

"I  should  murmur!  Won't  you  like  to  see  the 
Three  C.'s  come  sailing  into  Topaz  one  of  these 
fine  mornings,  little  girl?"  asked  Tarvin,  sud- 
denly, as  he  seated  himself  on  the  sofa  beside 
her,  and  opened  out  the  paper  so  that  she  could 
look  over  his  shoulder. 

"Would  you  like  it,  Nick?" 

"Would  I!" 

"Then,  of  course,  I  should.  But  I  think  you 
will  be  better  off  if  it  doesn't.  It  will  make  you 
too  rich.  See  father." 

"Well,  I'd  put  on  the  brakes  if  I  found  myself 
getting  real  rich.  I'll  stop  just  after  I've  passed 
the  Genteel  Poverty  Station.  Isn't  it  good  to  see 


A  STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  213 

the  old  heading  again  —  Heckler's  name  as  large  as 
life  just  under  'oldest  paper  in  Divide  County,' 
and  Heckler's  fist  sticking  out  all  over  a  rousing 
editorial  on  the  prospects  of  the  town?  Homelike, 
isn't  it?  He's  got  two  columns  of  new  advertis- 
ing; that  shows  what  the  town's  doing.  And  look 
at  the  good  old  'ads.'  from  the  Eastern  agencies. 
How  they  take  you  back!  I  never  expected  to 
thank  Heaven  for  a  castoria  advertisement;  did 
you,  Kate  ?  But  I  swear  it  makes  me  feel  good  all 
over.  I'll  read  the  patent  inside  if  you  say  much." 
Kate  smiled.  The  paper  gave  her  a  little  pang 
of  homesickness  too.  She  had  her  own  feeling  for 
Topaz;  but  what  reached  her  through  the  "Tele- 
gram's "  lively  pages  was  the  picture  of  her  mother 
sitting  in  her  kitchen  in  the  long  afternoons  (she 
had  sat  in  the  kitchen  so  long  in  the  poor  and 
wandering  days  of  the  family  that  she  did  it  now 
by  'preference),  gazing  sadly  out  at  white-topped 
Big  Chief,  and  wondering  what  her  daughter  was 
doing  at  that  hour.  Kate  remembered  well  that 
afternoon  hour  in  the  kitchen  when  the  work  was 
done.  She  recalled  from  the  section-house  days 
the  superannuated  rocker,  once  a  parlor  chair, 
which  her  mother  had  hung  with  skins  and  told 
off  for  kitchen  service.  Kate  remembered  with 
starting  tears  that  her  mother  had  always  wanted 
her  to  sit  in  it,  and  how  good  it  had  been  to  see 


214  THE  NAULAHKA. 

from  her  own  hassock  next  the  oven  the  little 
mother  swallowed  up  in  its  deeps.  She  heard  the 
cat  purring  under  the  stove,  and  the  kettle  singing ; 
the  clock  ticked  in  her  ear,  and  the  cracks  between 
the  boards  in  the  floor  of  the  hastily  built  sec- 
tion-house blew  the  cold  prairie  air  against  her 
heels. 

She  gazed  over  Tarvin's  shoulder  at  the  two 
cuts  of  Topaz  which  appeared  in  every  issue  of  the 
"Telegram,"  —  the  one  representing  the  town  in 
its  first  year,  the  other  the  town  of  to-day, — and 
a  lump  rose  in  her  throat. 

"Quite  a  difference,  isn't  there?"  said  Tarvin, 
following  her  eye.  "  Do  you  remember  where  your 
father's  tent  used  to  stand,  and  the  old  section- 
house,  just  here  by  the  river?"  He  pointed,  and 
Kate  nodded  without  speaking.  "  Those  were  good 
days,  weren't  they?  Your  father  wasn't  as  rich  as 
he  is  now,  and  neither  was  I;  but  we  were  all 
mighty  happy  together." 

Kate's  thought  drifted  back  to  that  time,  and 
called  up  other  visions  of  her  mother  expending 
her  slight  frame  in  many  forms  of  hard  work.  The 
memory  of  the  little  characteristic  motion  with 
which  she  would  shield  with  raised  hand  the  worn 
young  old  face  when  she  would  be  broiling  above 
an  open  fire,  or  frying  doughnuts,  or  lifting  the 
stove-lid,  forced  her  to  gulp  down  the  tears.  The 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  215 

simple  picture  was  too  clear,  even  to  the  light  of 
the  fire  on  the  face,  and  the  pink  light  shining 
through  the  frail  hand. 

"  Hello ! "  said  Tarvin,  casting  his  eye  up  and 
down  the  columns,  "they've  had  to  put  another 
team  on  to  keep  the  streets  clean.  We  had  one. 
Heckler  don't  forget  the  climate  either.  And  they 
are  doing  well  at  the  Mesa  House.  That's  a  good 
sign.  The  tourists  will  all  have  to  stop  over  at 
Topaz  when  the  new  line  comes  through,  and  we 
have  the  right  hotel.  Some  towns  might  think  we 
had  a  little  tourist  traffic  now.  Here's  Loomis 
dining  fifty  at  the  Mesa  the  other  day  —  through 
express.  They've  formed  a  new  syndicate  to  work 
the  Hot  Springs.  Do  you  know,  I  shouldn't  won- 
der if  they  made  a  town  down  there.  Heckler's 
right.  It  will  help  Topaz.  We  don't .  mind  a 
town  that  near.  It  makes  a  suburb  of  it." 

He  marked  his  sense  of  the  concession  implied 
in  letting  him  stay  that  evening  by  going  early; 
but  he  did  not  go  so  early  on  the  following  even- 
ing, and  as  he  showed  no  inclination  to  broach 
forbidden  subjects,  Kate  found  herself  glad  to  have 
him  there,  and  it  became  a  habit  of  his  to  drop 
in,  in  the  evenings,  and  to  join  the  group  that 
gathered,  with  open  doors  and  windows,  about  the 
family  lamp.  In  the  happiness  of  seeing  visible 
effects  from  her  labors  blossoming  under  her  eyes, 


216  THE  NA.TTLAHKA. 

Kate  regarded  his  presence  less  and  less.  Some- 
times she  would  let  him  draw  her  out  upon  the 
veranda,  under  the  sumptuous  Indian  night  —  nights 
when  the  heat-lightning  played  like  a  drawn  sword 
on  the  horizon,  and  the  heavens  hovered  near  the 
earth,  and  the  earth  was  very  still.  But  com- 
monly they  sat  within,  with  the  missionary  and 
his  wife,  talking  of  Topaz,  of  the  hospital,  of  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar,  of  the  dam,  and  sometimes  of 
the  Estes  children  at  Bangor.  For  the  most  part, 
however,  when  the  talk  was  among  the  group,  it 
fell  upon  the  infinitesimal  gossip  of  a  sequestered 
life,  to  the  irritation  and  misery  of  Tarvin. 

When  the  conversation  lagged  in  these  deeps  he 
would  fetch  up  violently  with  a  challenge  to  Estes 
on  the  subject  of  the  tariff  or  silver  legislation, 
and  after  that  the  talk  was  at  least  lively.  Tar- 
vin was,  by  his  training,  largely  a  newspaper- 
educated  man.  But  he  had  also  been  taught  at 
first  hand  by  life  itself,  and  by  the  habit  of  making 
his  own  history;  and  he  used  the  hairy  fist  of  horse- 
sense  in  dealing  with  the  theories  of  newspaper 
politics  and  the  systems  of  the  schools. 

Argument  had  no  allurements  for  him,  however; 
it  was  with  Kate  that  he  talked  when  he  could, 
and  oftenest,  of  late,  of  the  hospital,  since  her  prog- 
ress there  had  begun  to  encourage  her.  She  yielded 
at  last  to  his  entreaties  to  be  allowed  to  see  this 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  217 

paragon,  and  to  look  for  himself  upon  the  reforms 
she  had  wrought. 

Matters  had  greatly  improved  since  the  days  of 
the  lunatic  and  the  "much-esteemed  woman,"  but 
only  Kate  knew  how  much  remained  to  be  done. 
The  hospital  was  at  least  clean  and  sweet  if  she 
inspected  it  every  day,  and  the  people  in  their 
fashion  were  grateful  for  kinder  tending  and  more 
skilful  treatment  than  they  had  hitherto  dreamed 
of.  Upon  each  cure  a  rumor  went  abroad  through 
the  country-side  of  a  new  power  in  the  land,  and 
other  patients  came;  or  the  convalescent  herself 
would  bring  back  a  sister,  a  child,  or  a  mother 
with  absolute  faith  in  the  power  of  the  White 
Fairy  to  make  all  whole.  They  could  not  know 
all  the  help  that  Kate  brought  in  the  train  of  her 
quiet  movements,  but  for  what  they  knew  they 
blessed  her  as  they  lay.  Her  new  energy  swept 
even  Dhunpat  Rai  along  the  path  of  reform.  He 
became  curious  in  the  limewashing  of  stonework, 
the  disinfecting  of  wards,  the  proper  airing  of  bed- 
linen,  and  even  the  destruction  by  fire  of  the  bed- 
steads, once  his  perquisite,  on  which  smallpox 
patients  had  died.  Native-like,  he  worked  best  for 
a  woman  with  the  knowledge  that  there  was  an 
energetic  white  man  in  the  background.  Tarvin's 
visit,  and  a  few  cheery  words  addressed  to  him  by 
that  capable  outsider,  supplied  him  with  this  knowl- 
edge. 


218  THE  NAULAHKA. 

Tarvin  could  not  understand  the  uncouth  talk 
of  the  out-patients,  and  did  not  visit  the  women's 
wards ;  but  he  saw  enough  to  congratulate  Kate 
unreservedly.  She  smiled  contentedly.  Mrs.  Estes 
was  sympathetic,  but  in  no  way  enthusiastic;  and 
it  was  good  to  be  praised  by  Nick,  who  had  found 
so  much  to  blame  in  her  project. 

"It's  clean  and  it's  wholesome,  little  girl,"  he 
said,  peering  and  sniffing;  "and  you've  done  mir- 
acles with  these  jellyfish.  If  you'd  been  on  the 
opposition  ticket  instead  of  your  father  I  shouldn't 
be  a  member  of  the  legislature." 

Kate  never  talked  to  him  about  that  large  part 
of  her  work  which  lay  among  the  women  of  the 
Maharajah's  palace.  Little  by  little  she  learned 
her  way  about  such  portions  of  the  pile  as  she  was 
permitted  to  traverse.  From  the  first  she  had 
understood  that  the  palace  was  ruled  by  one  Queen, 
of  whom  the  women  spoke  under  their  breath,  and 
whose  lightest  word,  conveyed  by  the  mouth  of  a 
grinning  child,  set  the  packed  mazes  humming. 
Once  only  had  she  seen  this  Queen,  glimmering 
like  a  tiger-beetle  among  a  pile  of  kincob  cushions 
—  a  lithe,  black-haired  young  girl,  it  seemed,  with 
a  voice  as  soft  as  running  water  at  night,  and  with 
eyes  that  had  no  shadow  of  fear  in  them.  She 
turned  lazily,  the  jewels  clinking  on  ankle,  arm, 
and  bosom,  and  looked  at  Kate  for  a  long  time 
without  speaking. 


A   STORY  OF  WEST  AND  BAST.  219 

"I  have  sent  that  I  may  see  you,"  she  said  at 
last.  "You  have  come  here  across  the  water  to 
help  these  cattle  ?  " 

Kate  nodded,  every  instinct  in  her  revolting  at 
the  silver-tongued  splendor  at  her  feet. 

"You  are  not  married?"  The  Queen  put  her 
hands  behind  her  head  and  looked  at  the  painted 
peacocks  on  the  ceiling. 

Kate  did  not  reply,  but  her  heart  was  hot. 

"Is  there  any  sickness  here?"  she  asked  at  last 
sharply.  "I  have  much  to  do." 

"  There  is  none,  unless  it  may  be  that  you  your- 
self are  sick.  There  are  those  who  sicken  without 
knowing  it." 

The  eyes  turned  to  meet  Kate's,  which  were 
blazing  with  indignation.  This  woman,  lapped  in 
idleness,  had  struck  at  the  life  of  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar;  and  the  horror  of  it  was  that  she  was 
younger  than  herself. 

" Achcha,"  said  the  Queen,  still  more  slowly, 
watching  her  face.  "If  you  hate  me  so,  why  do 
you  not  say  so?  You  white  people  love  truth." 

Kate  turned  on  her  heel  to  leave  the  room.  Sita- 
bhai  called  her  back  for  an  instant,  and,  moved  by 
some  royal  caprice,  would  have  caressed  her,  but 
she  fled  indignant,  and  was  careful  never  again  to 
venture  into  that  wing  of  the  palace.  None  of  the 
women  there  called  for  her  services,  and  not  one* 


220  THE  NAULAHKA. 

but  several  times,  when  she  passed  the  mouth  of 
the  covered  way  that  led  to  Sitabhai's  apartments, 
she  saw  a  little  naked  child  flourishing  a  jewelled 
knife,  and  shouting  round  the  headless  carcass  of  a 
goat  whose  blood  was  flooding  the  white  marble. 
"That, "said  the  women,  "is  the  gypsy's  son.  He 
learns  to  kill  daily.  A  snake  is  a  snake,  and  a 
gypsy  is  a  gypsy,  till  they  are  dead." 

There  was  no  slaughter  of  goats,  singing  of 
songs,  or  twangling  of  musical  instruments  in  the 
wing  of  the  palace  that  made  itself  specially  Kate's 
own.  Here  lived,  forgotten  by  the  Maharajah  and 
mocked  by  Sitabhai's  maidens,  the  mother  of  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar.  Sitabhai  had  taken  from  her  — 
by  the  dark  arts  of  the  gypsies,  so  the  Queen's 
adherents  said;  by  her  own  beauty  and  knowledge 
in  love,  they  sang  in  the  other  wing  of  the  palace 
—  all  honor  and  consideration  due  to  her  as  the 
Queen  Mother.  There  were  scores  of  empty  rooms 
where  once  there  had  been  scores  of  waiting-women, 
and  those  who  remained  with  the  fallen  Queen 
were  forlorn  and  ill-favored.  She  herself  was  a 
middle-aged  woman,  by  Eastern  standards;  that  is 
to  say,  she  had  passed  twenty-five,  and  had  never 
been  more  than  ordinarily  comely. 

Her  eyes  were  dull  with  much  weeping,  and  her 
mind  was  full  of  superstitions  —  fears  for  every 
hour  of  the  night  and  the  day,  and  vague  terrors, 


A  STORY  OP  WEST  AND  BAST.  221 

bred  of  loneliness,  that  made  her  tremble  at  the 
sound  of  a  footfall.  In  the  years  of  her  prosperity 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  perfume  herself,  put 
on  her  jewels,  and  with  braided  hair  await  the 
Maharajah's  coming.  She  would  still  call  for  her 
jewels,  attire  herself  as  of  old,  and  wait  amid  the 
respectful  silence  of  her  attendants  till  the  long 
night  gave  way  to  the  dawn,  and  the  dawn  showed 
the  furrows  on  her  cheeks.  Kate  had  seen  one 
such  vigil,  and  perhaps  showed  in  her  eyes  the 
wonder  that  she  could  not  repress,  for  the  Queen 
Mother  fawned  on  her  timidly  after  the  jewels  had 
been  put  away,  and  begged  her  not  to  laugh. 

"You  do  not  understand,  Miss  Kate,"  she  pleaded. 
"  There  is  one  custom  in  your  country  and  another 
in  ours;  but  still  you  are  a  woman,  and  you  will 
know." 

"But  you  know  that  no  one  will  come,"  Kate  said 
tenderly. 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  —  no,  you  are  not  a  woman, 
only  a  fairy  that  has  come  across  the  water  to  help 
me  and  mine." 

Here  again  Kate  was  baffled.  Except  in  the  mes- 
sage sent  by  the  Maharaj  Kunwar,  the  Queen 
Mother  never  referred  to  the  danger  that  threat- 
ened her  son's  life.  Again  and  again  Kate  had 
tried  to  lead  up  to  the  subject  —  to  gain  some  hint» 
at  least,  of  the  nature  of  the  plot. 


222  THE  NA.ULAHKA. 

"I  know  nothing,"  the  Queen  would  reply 
"Here  behind  the  curtain  no  one  knows  anything. 
Miss  Kate,  if  my  own  women  lay  dead  out  there 
in  the  sun  at  noon,"  —  she  pointed  downward 
through  the  tracery  of  her  window  to  the  flagged 
path  below,  —  "I  should  know  nothing.  Of  what 
I  said  I  know  nothing;  but  surely  it  is  allowed," 
—  she  lowered  her  voice  to  a  whisper,  —  "oh,  surely 
it  is  allowed  to  a  mother  to  bid  another  woman 
look  to  her  son.  He  is  so  old  now  that  he  thinks 
himself  a  man,  and  wanders  far,  and  so  young  that 
he  thinks  the  world  will  do  him  no  harm.  Ahi! 
And  he  is  so  wise  that  he  knows  a  thousand  times 
more  than  I:  he  speaks  English  like  an  English- 
man. How  can  I  control  him  with  my  little  learn- 
ing and  my  very  great  love?  I  say  to  you,  Be 
good  to  my  son.  That  I  can  say  aloud,  and  write 
it  upon  a  wall,  if  need  were.  There  is  no  harm 
in  that.  But  if  I  said  more,  look  you,  the  plaster 
between  the  stones  beneath  me  would  gape  to  suck 
it  in,  and  the  wind  would  blow  all  my  words  across 
to  the  villages.  I  am  a  stranger  here  —  a  Rajputni 
from  Kulu,  a  thousand  thousand  coss  away.  They 
bore  me  here  in  a  litter  to  be  married  —  in  the 
dark  they  bore  me  for  a  month;  and  except  that 
some  of  my  women  have  told  me,  I  should  not 
know  which  way  the  home  wind  blows  when  it 
^oes  to  Kulu.  What  can  a  strange  cow  do  in  the 
byre?  May  the  gods  witness." 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  223 

"Ah,  but  tell  me  what  you  think?" 

"I  think  nothing,"  the  Queen  would  answer  sul- 
lenly. "What  have  women  to  do  with  thinking? 
They  love  and  they  suffer.  I  have  said  all  that  I 
may  say.  Miss  Kate,  some  day  you  will  bear  a  little 
son.  As  you  have  been  good  to  my  son,  so  may 
the  gods  be  good  to  yours  when  that  time  comes, 
and  you  know  how  the  heart  is  full  of  love." 

"If  I  am  to  protect  him,  I  must  know.  You 
leave  me  in  the  dark." 

"And  I  also  am  in  the  dark  —  and  the  darkness 
is  full  of  danger." 

TARVIN  himself  was  much  about  the  palace,  not 
only  because  he  perceived  that  it  was  there  he 
might  most  hopefully  keep  his  ear  to  the  ground 
for  news  of  the  Naulahka,  but  because  it  enabled 
him  to  observe  Kate's  comings  and  goings,  and 
with  his  hand  ready  for  a  rapid  movement  to  his 
pistol-pocket. 

His  gaze  followed  her  at  these  times,  as  at  others, 
with  the  longing  look  of  the  lover;  but  he  said 
nothing,  and  Kate  was  grateful  to  him.  It  was  a 
time,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  to  play  the  part  of  the 
Tarvin  who  had  carried  water  for  her  long  ago  at 
the  end  of  the  section;  it  was  a  time  to  stand 
back,  to  watch,  to  guard,  but  not  to  trouble  her. 

The  Maharai  Kunwar  came  often  ander  his  eye, 


224  THE  NAULAHKA. 

and  he  was  constantly  inventing  amusing  things 
for  him  to  do  remote  from  Sitabhai's  court-yard; 
but  the  boy  would  occasionally  break  away,  and 
then  it  was  Tarvin's  task  to  go  after  him  and 
make  sure  that  he  came  to  no  harm.  One  after- 
noon when  he  had  spent  some  time  in  coaxing 
the  child  away,  and  had  finally  resorted  to  force, 
much  to  the  child's  disgust,  a  twelve-foot  balk  of 
teak-wood,  as  he  was  passing  out  under  an  arch 
in  process  of  repair,  crashed  down  from  the  scaffold- 
ing just  in  front  of  Fibby's  nose.  The  horse 
retired  into  the  court-yard  on  his  hind  legs,  and 
Tarvin  heard  the  rustle  of  the  women  behind  the 
shutters. 

He  reflected  on  the  incurable  slackness  of  these 
people,  stopped  to  swear  at  the  workmen  crouched 
on  the  scaffolding  in  the  hollow  of  the  arch,  and 
went  on.  They  were  no  less  careless  about  the 
dam,  —  it  was  in  the  blood,  he  supposed,  —  for  the 
head  man  of  a  coolie-gang,  who  must  have  crossed 
the  Amet  twenty  times,  showed  him  a  new  ford 
across  a  particularly  inviting  channel,  which  ended 
m  a  quicksand ;  and  when  Tarvin  had  flung  him- 
self clear,  the  gang  spent  half  the  day  in  hauling 
Fibby  out  with  ropes.  They  could  not  even  build 
a  temporary  bridge  without  leaving  the  boards 
loose,  so  that  a  horse's  hoof  found  its  way  between  ; 
and  the  gangs  seemed  to  make  a  point  of  letting 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  225 

bullock-carts  run  down  the  steep  embankments  into 
the  small  of  Tarvin's  back,  when,  at  infrequent 
intervals,  that  happened  to  be  turned. 

Tarvin  was  filled  with  great  respect  for  the  Brit- 
ish Government,  which  worked  on  these  materials, 
and  began  to  understand  the  mild-faced  melancholy 
and  decisive  views  of  Lucien  Estes  about  the  native 
population,  as  well  as  to  sympathize  more  keenly 
than  ever  with  Kate. 

This  curious  people  were  now,  he  learned  with 
horror,  to  fill  the  cup  of  their  follies  by  marrying 
the  young  Maharaj  Kunwar  to  a  three-year-old  babe, 
brought  from  the  Kulu  hills,  at  vast  expense,  to 
be  his  bride.  He  sought  out  Kate  at  the  mission- 
ary's, and  found  her  quivering  with  indignation. 
She  had  just  heard. 

"It's  like  them  to  waste  a  wedding  where  it 
isn't  wanted,"  said  Tarvin,  soothingly. 

Since  he  saw  Kate  excited,  it  became  his  part  to 
be  calm. 

"Don't  worry  your  overworked  head  about  it, 
Kate.  You  are  trying  to  do  too  much,  and  you 
are  feeling  too  much.  You  will  break  down  before 
you  know  it,  from  sheer  exhaustion  of  the  chord 
of  sympathy." 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Kate.  "I  feel  quite  strong 
enough  for  anything  that  may  come.  I  mustn't 
break  down.  Think  of  this  marriage  coming  on. 

Q 


226  THE  NAULAHKA. 

The  Maharaj  will  need  me  more  than  ever.  He 
has  just  told  me  that  he  won't  get  any  sleep  for 
three  days  and  three  nights  while  their  priests  are 
praying  over  him." 

"Crazy!  Why,  it's  a  quicker  way  of  killing  him 
than  Sitabhai's.  Heavens  !  I  daren't  think  of  it. 
Let's  talk  of  something  else.  Any  papers  from 
your  father  lately?  This  kind  of  thing  makes 
Topaz  taste  sort  of  good." 

She  gave  him  a  package  received  by  the  last 
post,  and  he  fell  silent  as  he  ran  his  eye  hastily 
over  a  copy  of  the  "  Telegram  "  six  weeks  old ;  but 
he  seemed  to  find  little  comfort  in  it.  His  brows 
knitted. 

"Pshaw!"  he  exclaimed  with  irritation,  "this 
won't  do!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"Heckler  bluffing  about  the  Three  C.'s,  and  not 
doing  it  well.  That  isn't  like  Jim.  He  talks 
about  it  as  a  sure  thing  as  hard  as  if  he  didn't 
believe  in  it,  and  had  a  private  tip  from  somewhere 
that  it  wasn't  coming  after  all.  I've  no  doubt  he 
has.  But  he  needn't  give  it  away  to  Rustler  like 
that.  Let's  look  at  the  real-estate  transfers.  Ah! 
that  tells  the  story,"  he  exclaimed  excitedly,  as 
his  eye  rested  on  the  record  of  the  sale  of  a  parcel 
of  lots  on  G  street.  "Prices  are  going  down — • 
away,  'way  down.  The  boys  are  caving.  They're 


A   STORY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  227 

giving  up  the  fight."  He  leaped  up  and  marched 
about  the  room  nervously.  "  Heavens  1  if  I  could 
only  get  word  to  them!" 

"Why  —  what,  Nick?  What  word  do  you  want 
to  send  them?" 

He  pulled  himself  up  instantly. 

"To  let  them  know  that  I  believe  in  it,"  he 
said.  "To  get  them  to  hold  on." 

"But  suppose  the  road  doesn't  come  to  Topaz, 
after  all.  How  can  you  know,  away  off  here  in 
India?" 

"  Come  to  Topaz,  little  girl ! "  he  shouted. 
"Come  to  Topaz!  It's  coming  if  I  have  to  lay 
the  rails  I " 

But  the  news  about  the  temper  of  the  town 
vexed  and  disconcerted  him  notwithstanding,  and 
after  he  left  Kate  that  night  he  sent  a  cable  to 
Heckler,  through  Mrs.  Mutrie,  desiring  her  to  for- 
ward the  despatch  from  Denver,  as  if  that  were 
the  originating  office  of  the  message. 

HECKLER,  TOPAZ.  —  Take  a  brace,  for  G-od's 
sake!  Got  dead  cinch  on  Three  (7.'«.  Trust  me, 
and  loom  like .  TARVIN. 


228  THE  NAULAHKA. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Because  I  sought  it  far  from  men 

In  deserts  and  alone, 
I  found  it  burning  overhead,  — 

The  jewel  of  a  throne. 

Because  I  sought  —  I  sought  it  so 

And  spent  my  days  to  find, 
It  blazed  one  moment  ere  it  left 

The  blacker  night  behind.* 

The  Crystals  of  Iswara. 

A  CITY  of  tents  had  grown  up  in  three  days 
without  the  walls  of  Rhatore  —  a  city  greened  with 
far-brought  lawns  of  turf,  and  stuck  about  with 
hastily  transplanted  orange-trees,  wooden  lamp- 
posts painted  in  gaudy  colors,  and  a  cast-iron  foun- 
tain of  hideous  design.  Many  guests  were  expected 
at  Rhatore  to  grace  the  marriage  of  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar  —  barons,  princes,  thakurs,  lords  of  waste 
fortresses  and  of  hopeless  crags  of  the  North  and 
the  South,  fiefs  from  the  fat,  poppy-blazoned  plains 
of  Mewar,  and  brother  rajahs  of  the  King.  They 
came  accompanied  by  their  escorts,  horse  and  foot. 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  Macmillan  &  Co. 


A   STOKY  OF  WEST  AND   EAST.  229 

In  a  land  where  genealogies,  to  be  respectable, 
must  run  back  without  a  break  for  eight  hundred 
years,  it  is  a  delicate  matter  not  to  offend;  and 
all  were  desperately  jealous  of  the  place  and  pre- 
cedence of  their  neighbors  in  the  camp.  Lest  the 
task  should  be  too  easy,  the  household  bards  of 
the  princes  came  with  them,  and  squabbled  with 
the  court  officials  of  Gokral  Seetarun.  Behind  the 
tents  stretched  long  lines  of  horse-pickets,  where 
the  fat  pink-and-blue-spotted  stallions  neighed  and 
squealed  at  one  another,  under  their  heavy  velvet 
trappings,  all  day  long;  and  the  ragged  militia  of 
twenty  tiny  native  states  smoked  and  gambled 
among  their  saddles,  or  quarrelled  at  the  daily  dis- 
tribution of  food  furnished  by  the  generosity  of  the 
Maharajah.  From  hundreds  of  miles  about,  va- 
grant and  mendicant  priests  of  every  denomination 
had  flocked  into  the  city,  and  their  salmon-colored 
raiment,  black  blankets,  or  ash-smeared  nudity  gave 
Tarvin  many  minutes  of  untrammelled  entertain- 
ment as  he  watched  them  roaming  fearlessly  from 
tent  to  tent,  their  red  eyes  rolling  in  their  heads, 
alternately  threatening  or  fawning  for  gifts.  The 
rest-house,  as  Tarvin  discovered,  was  crammed 
with  fresh  contingents  of  commercial  travellers. 
His  Highness  was  not  likely  to  pay  at  such  a 
season,  but  fresh  orders  would  be  plentiful.  The 
city  itself  was  brilliant  with  coats  of  pink-and- 


230  THE  NAULAHKA. 

white  lime-wash,  and  the  main  streets  were  ob- 
structed with  the  bamboo  scaffoldings  of  fireworks. 
Every  house-front  was  swept  and  newly  luted  with 
clean  mud,  and  the  doorways  were  hung  with  mari- 
golds and  strings  of  jasmine-buds.  Through  the 
crowds  tramped  the  sweating  sweetmeat-dealers, 
venders  of  hawks,  dealers  in  cheap  jewelry  and 
glass  bracelets  and  little  English  mirrors,  while 
camels,  loaded  with  wedding  gifts  of  far-off  kings, 
ploughed  through  the  crowd,  or  the  mace-bearers  of 
the  state  cleared  a  path  with  their  silver  staves  for 
the  passage  of  the  Maharajah's  carriages.  Forty 
barouches  were  in  use,  and,  as  long  as  horse-flesh 
held  out,  or  harness  could  be  patched  with  string, 
it  did  not  beseem  the  dignity  of  the  state  to  pro- 
vide less  than  four  horses  to  each.  As  these  horses 
were  untrained,  and  as  the  little  native  boys,  out 
of  sheer  lightness  of  heart,  touched  off  squibs  and 
crackers  at  high  noon,  the  streets  were  animated. 
The  hill  on  which  the  palace  stood  seemed  to 
smoke  like  a  volcano,  for  the  little  dignitaries 
came  without  cessation,  each  expecting  the  salute 
of  cannon  due  to  his  rank.  Between  the  roars  of 
the  ordnance,  strains  of  uncouth  music  would  break 
from  the  red  walls,  and  presently  some  officer  of 
the  court  would  ride  out  of  one  of  the  gates,  fol- 
lowed by  all  his  retinue,  each  man  gorgeous  as  a 
cock-pheasant  in  spring,  his  moustache  fresh  oiled, 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  231 

and  curled  fiercely  over  his  ears;  or  one  of  the 
royal  elephants,  swathed  in  red  velvet  and  bullion 
from  shoulder  to  ankle,  would  roll  out  under  the 
weight  of  his  silver  howdah,  and  trumpet  till  the 
streets  were  cleared  for  his  passage.  Seventy  ele- 
phants were  fed  daily  by  the  King  —  no  mean  charge, 
since  each  beast  consumed  as  much  green  fodder 
daily  as  he  could  carry  on  his  back,  as  well  as 
thirty  or  forty  pounds  of  flour.  Now  and  again 
one  of  the  monsters,  maddened  by  the  noise  and 
confusion,  and  by  the  presence  of  strange  rivals, 
would  be  overtaken  with  paroxysms  of  blind  fury. 
Then  he  would  be  hastily  stripped  of  his  trappings, 
bound  with  ropes  and  iron  chains,  hustled  out  of 
the  city  between  two  of  his  fellows,  and  tied  down 
half  a  mile  away  by  the  banks  of  the  Amet,  to 
scream  and  rage  till  the  horses  in  the  neighboring 
camps  broke  their  pickets  and  stampeded  wildly 
among  the  tents.  Pertab  Singh,  commandant  of 
his  Highness 's  body-guard,  was  in  his  glory.  Every 
hour  of  the  day  gave  him  excuse  for  charging  with 
his  troop  on  mysterious  but  important  errands  be- 
tween the  palace  and  the  tents  of  the  princes.  The 
formal  interchange  of  visits  alone  occupied  two 
days.  Each  prince  with  his  escort  would  solemnly 
drive  to  the  palace,  and  half  an  hour  later  the 
silver  state  barouche  and  the  Maharajah  himself, 
jewelled  from  head  to  heel,  would  return  the  visit, 


232  THE  NAULAHKA. 

while  the  guns  gave  word  of  the  event  to  the  city 
of  houses  and  to  the  city  of  tents. 

When  night  fell  on  the  camp  there  was  no  silence 
till  near  the  dawn,  for  strolling  players,  singers  of 
songs,  and  tellers  of  stories,  dancing-girls,  brawny 
Oudh  wrestlers,  and  camp-followers  beyond  count- 
ing, wandered  from  tent  to  tent  making  merry. 
When  these  had  departed,  the  temples  in  the  city 
sent  forth  the  hoarse  cries  of  conchs,  and  Kate,  lis- 
tening, seemed  to  hear  in  every  blast  the  wail  of 
the  little  Maharaj  Kunwar,  who  was  being  prepared 
for  his  marriage  by  interminable  prayers  and  puri- 
fications. She  saw  as  little  of  the  boy  as  Tarvin 
did  of  the  King.  In  those  days  every  request  for 
an  audience  was  met  with,  "He  is  with  his 
priests."  Tarvin  cursed  all  the  priests  of  Rhatore, 
and  condemned  to  every  variety  of  perdition  the 
hangdog  fakirs  that  prowled  about  his  path. 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  they'd  come  to  a  point  with 
this  fool  business,"  he  said  to  himself.  "I  haven't 
got  a  century  to  spend  in  Rhatore." 

After  nearly  a  week  of  uninterrupted  clamor, 
blazing  sunshine,  and  moving  crowds  clad  in  gar- 
ments the  colors  of  which  made  Tarvin's  eyes  ache, 
there  arrived,  by  the  same  road  that  had  borne  Kate 
to  the  city,  two  carriages  containing  five  English- 
men and  three  Englishwomen,  who,  later,  walked 
about  the  city  with  lack-lustre  eyes,  bored  by  the 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  233 

official  duty  which  compelled  them  to  witness  in 
the  hot  weather  a  crime  which  it  was  not  only 
beyond  them  to  hinder,  but  to  which  they  were 
obliged  to  lend  their  official  patronage. 

The  agent  to  the  Governor-General  —  that  is  to 
say,  the  official  representative  of  the  Viceroy  in 
Rajputana  —  had  some  time  before  represented  to 
the  Maharajah  that  he  might  range  himself  in  the 
way  of  progress  and  enlightenment  by  ordering  that 
his  son  should  not  be  given  in  marriage  for  another 
ten  years.  The  Maharajah,  pleading  the  imme- 
morial custom  of  his  land  and  the  influence  of  the 
priests,  gilded  his  refusal  by  a  generous  donation 
to  a  women's  hospital  in  Calcutta  which  was  not 
in  want  of  funds. 

For  his  own  part,  Tarvin  could  not  comprehend 
how  any  government  could  lend  its  countenance  to 
this  wicked  farce,  calling  itself  a  marriage,  which 
was  presently  to  be  played  out  with  the  assistance 
of  two  children.  He  was  presently  introduced  to 
the  agent  of  the  Governor-General,  who  was  anx- 
ious to  learn  more  about  the  damming  of  the  Amet. 
To  be  asked  about  the  damming  of  the  Amet,  when 
he  was  making  no  more  progress  than  at  present 
with  the  Naulahka,  seemed  to  Tarvin,  however,  the 
last  touch  of  insult,  and  he  was  not  communica- 
tive, asking  the  agent,  instead,  a  number  of  urgent 
questions  about  the  approaching  infamy  at  the  palace. 


234  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

The  agent  declaring  the  marriage  to  be  a  political 
necessity,  the  destination  suggested  by  Tarvin  for 
political  necessities  of  this  sort  caused  the  official  to 
stiffen,  and  to  look  this  wild  American  up  and 
down  with  startled  curiosity.  They  parted  on  poor 
terms. 

With  the  rest  of  the  party  Tarvin  was  more  at 
ease.  The  agent's  wife,  a  tall  brunette,  belonging 
to  one  of  those  families  which  from  the  earliest 
days  of  the  East  India  Company  have  administered 
the  fortunes  of  India,  solemnly  inspected  Kate's 
work  at  the  hospital ;  and  being  only  a  woman,  and 
not  an  official,  was  attracted,  and  showed  that  she 
was  attracted,  by  the  sad-eyed  little  woman  who 
did  not  talk  about  her  work.  Therefore  Tarvin 
devoted  himself  to  the  amusement  and  entertain- 
ment of  the  agent's  wife,  and  she  pronounced  him 
an  extraordinary  person.  "But,  then,  all  Ameri- 
cans are  extraordinary,  you  know,  though  they're 
so  clever." 

Not  forgetting  in  the  midst  of  this  tumultuous 
pageant  that  he  was  a  citizen  of  Topaz,  Tarvin  told 
her  about  that  blessed  city  of  the  plain,  away  off 
there  under  the  Sauguache  Range,  where  half  his 
heart  lay.  He  called  it  "the  magic  city,"  implying 
that  the  dwellers  of  the  western  continent  had 
agreed  to  call  it  so  by  general  consent.  She  was 
not  bored;  she  enjoyed  it.  Talk  of  land  and  im- 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  235 

provement  companies,  boards  of  trade,  town  lots, 
and  the  Three  C.'s  was  fresh  to  her,  and  it  became 
easy  to  lead  up  to  what  Tarvin  actually  had  in 
mind.  What  about  the  Naulahka?  Had  she  ever 
seen  it?  He  asked  these  questions  boldly. 

No;  she  knew  nothing  of  the  Naulahka.  Her 
thoughts  were  bounded  by  the  thought  of  going 
home  in  the  spring.  Home  for  her  meant  a  little 
house  near  Surbiton,  close  to  the  Crystal  Palace, 
where  her  three-year-old  boy  was  waiting  for  her; 
and  the  interests  of  the  other  English  men  and 
women  seemed  equally  remote  from  Rajputana  —  not 
to  mention  the  Naulahka.  It  was  only  inferentially 
that  Tarvin  could  gather  that  they  had  spent  the 
greater  part  of  their  working  lives  within  the  limits 
of  the  country.  They  talked  as  gypsies  might  talk 
by  the  roadside  a  little  before  the  horses  are  put 
into  the  caravan.  The  ways  were  hot,  they  im- 
plied, and  very  dusty;  and  they  hoped  one  day  to 
be  able  to  rest.  The  wedding  was  only  one  more 
weary  incident  on  the  line  of  march,  and  they 
devoutly  wished  it  over.  One  of  them  even  envied 
Tarvin  for  coming  to  the  state  with  his  fresh  eye 
and  his  lively  belief  in  the  possibility  of  getting 
something  out  of  the  land  beside  a  harvest  of 
regrets. 

The  last  day  of  the  marriage  ceremonies  began 
and  ended  with  more  cannon,  more  fireworks,  more 


236  THE  NAULAHKA. 

clattering  of  hoofs,  more  trumpeting  of  elephants, 
and  with  the  clamor  of  bands  trying  to  play  "  God 
Save  the  Queen."  The  Maharaj  Kunwar  was  to 
appear  in  the  evening  (in  an  Indian  state  wedding 
the  bride  is  neither  mentioned  nor  seen)  at  a  ban- 
quet, where  the  agent  of  the  Governor-General 
would  propose  his  health  and  that  of  his  father. 
The  Maharaj  was  to  make  a  speech  in  his  best 
English.  A  court  scribe  had  already  composed  a 
long  oration  to  be  used  by  his  father.  Tarvin  was 
beginning  seriously  to  doubt  whether  he  should 
ever  see  the  child  alive  again,  and,  before  the  ban- 
quet, rode  out  into  the  seething  city  to  reconnoitre. 
It  was  twilight,  and  the  torches  were  flaring  be- 
tween the  houses.  Wild  outlanders  from  the  desert, 
who  had  never  seen  a  white  man  before,  caught 
his  horse  by  the  bridle,  examined  him  curiously, 
and  with  a  grunt  let  him  pass.  The  many-colored 
turbans  showed  under  the  flickering  light  like  the 
jewels  of  a  broken  necklace,  and  all  the  white 
housetops  were  crowded  with  the  veiled  figures  of 
women.  In  half  an  hour  the  Maharaj  Kunwar 
would  make  his  way  from  the  royal  temple  to  the 
banqueting-tent  at  the  head  of  a  procession  of 
caparisoned  elephants. 

Tarvin  forced  his  way  inch  by  inch  through  the 
dense  crowd  that  waited  at  the  foot  of  the  temple 
steps.  He  merely  wished  to  satisfy  himself  that 


A  STORY  OP  WEST  AND  EAST.  237 

the  child  was  well;  he  wanted  to  see  him  come 
from  the  temple.  As  he  looked  about  him  he  saw 
that  he  was  the  only  white  man  in  the  crowd,  and 
pitied  his  jaded  acquaintances,  who  could  find  no 
pleasure  in  the  wild  scene  under  his  eyes. 

The  temple  doors  were  closed,  and  the  torchlight 
flashed  back  from  the  ivory  and  silver  with  which 
they  were  inlaid.  Somewhere  out  of  sight  stood 
the  elephants,  for  Tarvin  could  hear  their  deep 
breathing  and  an  occasional  squeal  above  the  hum 
of  the  crowd.  Half  a  troop  of  cavalry,  very  worn 
and  dusty  with  the  day's  labors,  were  trying  to 
clear  an  open  space  before  the  temple,  but  they 
might  as  well  have  tried  to  divide  a  rainbow. 
From  the  roofs  of  the  houses  the  women  were  throw- 
ing flowers,  sweetmeats,  and  colored  rice  into  the 
crowd,  while  small  bards,  not  yet  attached  to  the 
house  of  any  prince,  chanted  aloud  in  praise  of 
the  Maharajah,  the  Maharaj  Kunwar,  the  Viceroy, 
the  agent  of  the  Governor-General,  Colonel  Nolan, 
and  any  one  else  who  might  possibly  reward  praise 
with  pence.  One  of  these  men,  recognizing  Tar- 
vin, struck  up  a  chant  in  his  honor.  He  had  come5 
said  the  song,  from  a  far  country  to  dam  an  ungov- 
ernable river,  and  fill  the  country-side  with  gold; 
his  step  was  like  the  step  of  a  dromedary  in  the 
spring;  his  eye  terrible  as  that  of  an  elephant;  and 
the  graces  of  his  person  such  that  the  hearts  of 


238  THE  NAULAHKA. 

all  the  women  of  Rhatore  turned  to  water  when  he 
rode  upon  the  public  way.  Lastly,  he  would  re- 
ward the  singer  of  this  poor  song  with  untold  gen- 
erosity, and  his  name  and  fame  should  endure  in 
the  land  so  long  as  the  flag  of  Gokral  Seetarun  had 
five  colors,  or  as  long  as  the  Naulahka  adorned  the 
throat  of  kings. 

Then,  with  an  ear-splitting  shriek  of  conchs,  the 
temple  doors  opened  inward,  and  the  voices  of  the 
crowd  were  hushed  into  a  whisper  of  awe.  Tar- 
vin's  hands  tightened  on  the  reins  of  his  horse, 
and  he  leaned  forward  to  stare.  The  opened  doors 
of  the  temples  framed  a  square  of  utter  darkness, 
and  to  the  screeching  of  the  conchs  was  added  a 
throbbing  of  innumerable  drums.  A  breath  of 
incense,  strong  enough  to  make  him  cough,  drifted 
across  the  crowd,  which  were  absolutely  silent 
now. 

The  next  moment  the  Maharaj  Kunwar,  alone 
and  unattended,  came  out  of  the  darkness,  and 
stood  in  the  torchlight  with  his  hands  on  the  hilt 
of  his  sword.  The  face  beneath  the  turban,  draped 
with  loops  of  diamonds  under  an  emerald  aigret, 
was  absolutely  colorless.  There  were  purple  cir- 
cles about  his  eyes,  and  his  mouth  was  half  open; 
but  the  pity  Tarvin  felt  for  the  child's  weariness 
was  silenced  by  a  sudden  thrill  and  leap  of  his 
heart,  for  on  the  gold  cloth  of  the  Maharaj  Kun« 
war's  breast  lay  the  Naulahka. 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  BAST.  239 

There  was  no  need,  this  time,  to  ask  any  ques- 
tions. It  was  not  he  who  saw  it;  its  great  deep 
eyes  seemed  to  fall  on  him.  It  blazed  with  the 
dull  red  of  the  ruby,  the  angry  green  of  the  emer- 
ald, the  cold  blue  of  the  sapphire,  and  the  white, 
hot  glory  of  the  diamond.  But  dulling  all  these 
glories  was  the  superb  radiance  of  one  gem  that 
lay  above  the  great  carved  emerald  on  the  central 
clasp.  It  was  the  black  diamond  —  black  as  the 
pitch  of  the  infernal  lake,  and  lighted  from  below 
with  the  fires  of  hell. 

The  thing  lay  on  the  boy's  shoulders,  a  yoke  of 
flame.  It  outshone  the  silent  Indian  stars  above, 
turned  the  tossing  torches  to  smears  of  dull  yellow, 
and  sucked  the  glitter  from  the  cloth  of  gold  on 
which  it  lay. 

There  was  no  time  to  think,  to  estimate,  to 
appraise,  scarcely  a  moment  even  to  realize,  for  the 
conchs  suddenly  wailed  again,  the  Maharaj  stepped 
back  into  the  darkness,  and  the  doors  of  the  temple 
were  shut. 


240  THE  NAULAHKA. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

From  smallpox  and  the  Evil  Eye,  a  wasteful  marriage-feast,  and 
the  kindness  of  my  co-wife  may  the  gods  protect  my  son.* 

Hindu  Proverb. 

TARVIN  made  his  way  to  the  banquet  with  his 
face  aflame  and  his  tongue  dry  between  his  teeth. 
He  had  seen  it.  It  existed.  It  was  not  a  myth. 
And  he  would  have  it ;  he  would  take  it  back  with 
him.  Mrs.  Mutrie  should  hang  it  about  the  sculp- 
tured neck  that  looked  so  well  when  she  laughed; 
and  the  Three  C.'s  should  come  to  Topaz.  He 
would  be  the  saviour  of  his  town ;  the  boys  at  home 
would  take  the  horses  out  of  his  carriage  and  drag 
him  up  Pennsylvania  Avenue  with  their  own  hands ; 
and  town  lots  would  sell  next  year  in  Topaz  by 
the  running  inch. 

It  was  worth  all  the  waiting,  worth  the  damming 
of  a  hundred  rivers,  worth  a  century  of  pachisi- 
playing,  and  a  thousand  miles  of  bullock-cart.  As 
he  drained  a  glass  to  the  health  of  the  young  Maha- 
raj  Kunwar  at  the  banquet  that  evening,  he  renewed 
his  pledge  to  himself  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  Mtcmillftn  ft  Co. 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND   BAST.  241 

if  it  took  all  summer.  His  pride  of  success  had 
lain  low  of  late,  and  taken  many  hurts;  but  now 
that  he  had  seen  his  prize  he  esteemed  it  already 
within  his  grasp,  as  he  had  argued  at  Topaz  that 
Kate  must  be  his  because  he  loved  her. 

Next  morning  he  woke  with  a  confused  notion 
that  he  stood  on  the  threshold  of  great  deeds ;  and 
then,  in  his  bath,  he  wondered  whence  he  had 
plucked  the  certainty  and  exultation  of  the  night 
before.  He  had,  indeed,  seen  the  Naulahka,  but 
the  temple  doors  had  closed  on  the  vision.  He 
found  himself  asking  whether  either  temple  or  neck- 
lace had  been  real,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  wonder 
and  excitement  was  half-way  to  the  city  before  he 
knew  that  he  had  left  the  rest-house.  When  he 
came  to  himself,  however,  he  knew  well  whither 
he  was  going  and  what  he  was  going  for.  If  he 
had  seen  the  Naulahka,  he  meant  to  keep  it  in  sight. 
It  had  disappeared  into  the  temple.  To  the  temple, 
therefore,  he  would  go. 

Fragments  of  burnt-out  torches  lay  on  the  temple 
steps  among  trampled  flowers  and  spilt  oil,  and 
the  marigold  garlands  hung  limp  and  wilted  on 
the  fat  shoulders  of  the  black  stone  bulls  that 
guarded  the  inner  court.  Tarvin  took  off  his  white 
pith  helmet  (it  was  very  hot,  though  it  was  only 
two  hours  after  dawn),  pushed  back  the  scanty  hair 
from  his  high  forehead,  and  surveyed  the  remnants 

B 


242  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

of  yesterday's  feast.  The  city  was  still  asleep  after 
its  holiday.  The  doors  of  the  building  were  wide 
open,  and  he  ascended  the  steps  and  walked  in, 
with  none  to  hinder. 

The  formless,  four-faced  god  Iswara,  standing 
in  the  centre  of  the  temple,  was  smeared  and  dis- 
colored with  stains  of  melted  butter,  and  the  black 
smoke  of  exhausted  incense.  Tarvin  looked  at  the 
figure  curiously,  half  expecting  to  find  the  Nau- 
lahka  hung  about  one  of  its  four  necks.  Behind 
him,  in  the  deeper  gloom  of  the  temple,  stood  other 
divinities,  many-handed  and  many-headed,  tossing 
their  arms  aloft,  protruding  their  tongues,  and 
grinning  at  one  another.  The  remains  of  many 
sacrifices  lay  about  them,  and  in  the  half  light 
Tarvin  could  see  that  the  knees  of  one  were  dark 
with  dried  blood.  Overhead  the  dark  roof  ran  up 
into  a  Hindu  dome,  and  there  was  a  soft  rustle  and 
scratching  of  nesting  bats. 

Tarvin,  with  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head 
and  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  gazed  at  the  image, 
looking  about  him  and  whistling  softly.  He  had 
been  a  month  in  India,  but  he  had  not  yet  pene- 
trated to  the  interior  of  a  temple.  Standing  there, 
he  recognized  with  fresh  force  how  entirely  the 
life,  habits,  and  traditions  of  this  strange  people 
alienated  them  from  all  that  seemed  good  and  right 
to  him;  and  he  was  vaguely  angered  to  know  that 


A  STORY  Otf   WEST  AND  EASfl.  243 

it  was  the  servants  of  these  horrors  who  possessed  a 
necklace  which  had  power  to  change  the  destiny  of 
a  Christian  and  civilized  town  like  Topaz. 

He  knew  that  he  would  be  expelled  without 
ceremony  for  profanation,  if  discovered,  and  made 
haste  to  finish  his  investigations,  with  a  half- 
formed  belief  that  the  slovenliness  of  the  race  might 
have  caused  them  to  leave  the  Naulahka  about 
somewhere,  as  a  woman  might  leave  her  jewels  on 
her  dressing-table  after  a  late  return  from  a  ball 
the  night  before.  He  peered  about  and  under  the 
gods,  one  by  one,  while  the  bats  squeaked  above 
him.  Then  he  returned  to  the  central  image  of 
Iswara,  and  in  his  former  attitude  regarded  the 
idol. 

It  occurred  to  him  that,  though  he  was  on  level 
ground,  most  of  his  weight  was  resting  on  his  toes, 
and  he  stepped  back  to  recover  his  balance.  The 
slab  of  sandstone  he  had  just  quitted  rolled  over 
slowly  as  a  porpoise  rolls  in  the  still  sea,  revealing 
for  an  instant  a  black  chasm  below.  Then  it  shoul- 
dered up  into  its  place  again  without  a  sound,  and 
Tarvin  wiped  the  cold  sweat  from  his  forehead.  If 
he  had  found  the  Naulahka  at  that  instant  he  would 
have  smashed  it  in  pure  rage.  He  went  out  into 
the  sunlight  once  more,  devoting  the  country  where 
such  things  were  possible  to  its  own  gods ;  he  could 
think  of  nothing  worse. 


244  THE  NAULAHKA. 

A  priest,  sprung  from  an  unguessable  retreat, 
came  out  of  the  temple  immediately  afterward,  and 
smiled  upon  him. 

Tarvin,  willing  to  renew  his  hold  on  the  whole- 
some world  in  which  there  were  homes  and  women, 
betook  himself  to  the  missionary's  cottage,  where 
he  invited  himself  to  breakfast.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Estes  had  kept  themselves  strictly  aloof  from  the 
marriage  ceremony,  but  they  could  enjoy  Tarvin 's 
account  of  it,  delivered  from  the  Topaz  point  of 
view.  Kate  was  unfeignedly  glad  to  see  him.  She 
was  full  of  the  discreditable  desertion  of  Dhunpat 
Rai  and  the  hospital  staff  from  their  posts.  They 
had  all  gone  to  watch  the  wedding  festivities,  and 
for  three  days  had  not  appeared  at  the  hospital. 
The  entire  work  of  the  place  had  devolved  on  her- 
self and  the  wild  woman  of  the  desert  who  was 
watching  her  husband's  cure.  Kate  was  very  tired, 
and  her  heart  was  troubled  with  misgivings  for  the 
welfare  of  the  little  Prince,  which  she  communi- 
cated to  Tarvin  when  he  drew  her  out  upon  the 
veranda  after  breakfast. 

"I'm  sure  he  wants  absolute  rest  now,"  she  said, 
almost  tearfully.  "He  came  to  me  at  the  end  of 
the  dinner  last  night  —  I  was  then  in  the  women's 
wing  of  the  palace  —  and  cried  for  half  an  hour. 
Poor  little  baby!  It's  cruel." 

"Oh,  well,  he'll  be  resting  to-day.  Don't 
worry. " 


A   STORY   OF   WEST  AND  BAST.  245 

"  No ;  to-day  they  take  his  bride  back  to  her  own 
people  again,  and  he  has  to  drive  out  with  the 
procession,  or  something  —  in  this  sun,  too.  It's 
very  wicked.  Doesn't  it  ever  make  your  head 
ache,  Nick?  I  sometimes  think  of  you  sitting  out 
on  that  dam  of  yours,  and  wonder  how  you  can 
bear  it." 

"I  can  bear  a  good  deal  for  you,  little  girl," 
returned  Tarvin,  looking  down  into  her  eyes. 

"Why,  how  is  that  for  me,  Nick?" 

"You'll  see  if  you  live  long  enough,"  he  assured 
her;  but  he  was  not  anxious  to  discuss  his  dam, 
and  returned  to  the  safer  subject  of  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar. 

Next  day  and  the  day  after  he  rode  aimlessly 
about  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  temple,  not  caring 
to  trust  himself  within  its  walls  again,  but  deter- 
mined to  keep  his  eye  upon  the  first  and  last  spot 
where  he  had  seen  the  Naulahka.  There  was  no 
chance  at  present  of  getting  speech  with  the  only 
living  person,  save  the  King,  whom  he  definitely 
knew  had  touched  the  treasure.  It  was  maddening 
to  await  the  reappearance  of  the  Maharaj  Kunwar 
in  his  barouche,  but  he  summoned  what  patience 
he  could.  He  hoped  much  from  him;  but  mean- 
while he  often  looked  in  at  the  hospital  to  see 
how  Kate  fared.  The  traitor  Dhunpat  Rai  and  his 
helpers  had  returned;  but  the  hospital  was  crowded 


246  THE  NAULAHKA. 

with  cases  from  the  furthest  portions  of  the  state  — 
fractures  caused  by  the  King's  reckless  barouches, 
and  one  or  two  cases,  new  in  Kate's  experience, 
of  men  drugged,  under  the  guise  of  friendship,  for 
the  sake  of  the  money  they  carried  with  them,  and 
left  helpless  in  the  public  ways. 

Tarvin,  as  he  cast  his  shrewd  eye  about  the  per- 
fectly kept  men's  ward,  humbly  owned  to  himself 
that,  after  all,  she  was  doing  better  work  in  Rha- 
tore  than  he.  She  at  least  did  not  run  a  hospital 
to  cover  up  deeper  and  darker  designs,  and  she 
had  the  inestimable  advantage  over  him  of  having 
her  goal  in  sight.  It  was  not  snatched  from  her 
after  one  maddening  glimpse ;  it  was  not  the  charge 
of  a  mysterious  priesthood,  or  of  an  impalpable 
state;  it  was  not  hidden  in  treacherous  temples, 
nor  hung  round  the  necks  of  vanishing  infants. 

One  morning,  before  the  hour  at  which  he  usually 
set  out  for  the  dam,  Kate  sent  a  note  over  to  him 
at  the  rest-house  asking  him  to  call  at  the  hospital 
as  soon  as  possible.  For  one  rapturous  moment  he 
dreamed  of  impossible  things.  But,  smiling  bit- 
terly at  his  readiness  to  hope,  he  lighted  a  cigar, 
and  obeyed  the  order. 

Kate  met  him  on  the  steps,  and  led  him  into 
the  dispensary. 

She  laid  an  eager  hand  on  his  arm.  "Do  you 
know  anything  about  the  symptoms  of  hemp-pois- 
oning?" she  asked  him. 


A   STORY  OP  WEST   AND   EAST.  247 

He  caught  her  by  both  hands  quickly,  and  stared 
wildly  into  her  face.  "Why?  Why?  Has  any 
one  been  daring — ?" 

She  laughed  nervously.  "No,  no.  It  isn't  me. 
It's  him." 

"Who?" 

"The  Maharaj  —  the  child.  I'm  certain  of  it 
now."  She  went  on  to  tell  him  how,  that  morn- 
ing, the  barouche,  the  escort,  and  a  pompous  native 
had  hurried  up  to  the  missionary's  door  bearing  the 
almost  lifeless  form  of  the  Maharaj  Kunwar;  how 
she  had  at  first  attributed  the  attack,  whatever  it 
might  be,  to  exhaustion  consequent  upon  the  wed- 
ding festivities ;  how  the  little  one  had  roused  from 
his  stupor,  blue-lipped  and  hollow-eyed,  and  had 
fallen  from  one  convulsion  into  another,  until  she 
had  begun  to  despair;  and  how,  at  the  last,  he  had 
dropped  into  a  deep  sleep  of  exhaustion,  when  she 
had  left  him  in  the  care  of  Mrs.  Estes.  She  added 
that  Mrs.  Estes  had  believed  that  the  young  Prince 
was  suffering  from  a  return  of  his  usual  malady; 
she  had  seen  him  in  paroxysms  of  this  kind  twice 
before  Kate  came. 

"Now  look  at  this,"  said  Kate,  taking  down  the 
chart  of  her  hospital  cases,  on  which  were  recorded 
the  symptoms  and  progress  of  two  cases  of  hemp- 
poisoning  that  had  come  to  her  within  the  past 
week. 


248  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"These  men,"  she  said,  "had  been  given  sweet- 
meats by  a  gang  of  travelling  gypsies,  and  all  their 
money  was  taken  from  them  before  they  woke  up. 
Read  for  yourself." 

Tarvin  read,  biting  his  lips.  At  the  end  he 
looked  up  at  her  sharply. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  with  an  emphatic  nod  of  his 
head  — "yes.  Sitabhai?" 

"Who  else  would  dare?"  answered  Kate,  pas- 
sionately. 

"  I  know.  I  know.  But  how  to  stop  her  going 
on !  how  to  bring  it  home  to  her ! " 

"Tell  the  Maharajah,"  responded  Kate,  decid- 
edly. 

Tarvin  took  her  hand.  "Good!  I'll  try  it  But 
there's  no  shadow  of  proof,  you  know." 

"  No  matter.  Remember  the  boy.  Try.  I  must 
go  back  to  him  now." 

The  two  returned  to  the  house  of  the  missionary 
together,  saying  veiy  little  on  the  way.  Tarvin 's 
indignation  that  Kate  should  be  mixed  up  in  this 
miserable  business  almost  turned  to  anger  at  Kate 
herself,  as  he  rode  beside  her;  but  his  wrath  was 
extinguished  at  sight  of  the  Maharaj  Kn invar. 
The  child  lay  on  a  bed  in  an  inner  room  at  the 
missionary's,  almost  too  weak  to  turn  his  head. 
As  Kate  and  Tarvin  entered,  Mrs.  Estes  rose  from 
giving  him  his  medicine,  said  a  word  to  Kate  by 


A  STOKY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  249 

way  of  report,  and  returned  to  her  own  work.  The 
child  was  clothed  only  in  a  soft  muslin  coat;  but 
his  sword  and  jewelled  belt  lay  across  his  feet. 

"Salaam,  Tarvin  Sahib,"  he  murmured.  "I  am 
very  sorry  that  I  was  ill." 

Tarvin  bent  over  him  tenderly.  "Don't  try  to 
talk,  little  one." 

"Nay;  I  am  well  now,"  was  the  answer.  "Soon 
we  will  go  riding  together." 

"Were  you  very  sick,  little  man?" 

"I  cannot  tell.  It  is  all  dark  to  me.  I  was  in 
the  palace  laughing  with  some  of  the  dance-girls. 
Then  I  fell.  And  after  that  I  remember  no  more 
till  I  came  here." 

He  gulped  down  the  cooling  draught  that  Kate 
gave  him,  and  resettled  himself  on  the  pillows, 
while  one  wax-yellow  hand  played  with  the  hilt 
of  his  sword.  Kate  was  kneeling  by  his  side,  one 
arm  under  the  pillow  supporting  his  head;  and  it 
seemed  to  Tarvin  that  he  had  never  before  done 
justice  to  the  beauty  latent  in  her  good,  plain, 
strong  features.  The  trim  little  figure  took  softer 
outlines,  the  firm  mouth  quivered,  the  eyes  were 
filled  with  a  light  that  Tarvin  had  never  seen 
before. 

"Come  to  the  other  side  —  so,"  said  the  child, 
beckoning  Tarvin  in  the  native  fashion,  by  folding 
all  his  tiny  fingers  into  his  palms  rapidly  and 


250  THE  NAULAHKA. 

repeatedly.  Tarvin  knelt  obediently  on  the  other 
side  of  the  couch.  "  Now  I  am  a  king,  and  this  is 
my  court." 

Kate  laughed  musically  in  her  delight  at  seeing 
the  boy  recovering  strength.  Tarvin  slid  his  arm 
under  the  pillow,  found  Kate's  hand  there,  and 
held  it. 

The  portidre  at  the  door  of  the  room  dropped 
softly.  Mrs.  Estes  had  stolen  in  for  a  moment, 
and  imagined  that  she  saw  enough  to  cause  her  to 
steal  out  again.  She  had  been  thinking  a  great 
deal  since  the  days  when  Tarvin  first  introduced 
himself. 

The  child's  eyes  began  to  grow  dull  and  heavy, 
and  Kate  would  have  withdrawn  her  arm  to  give 
him  another  draught. 

"Nay;  stay  so,"  he  said  imperiously;  and  relaps- 
ing into  the  vernacular,  muttered  thickly:  "Those 
who  serve  the  king  shall  not  lack  their  reward. 
They  shall  have  villages  free  of  tax  —  three,  five 
villages;  Sujjain,  Amet,  and  Gungra.  Let  it  be 
entered  as  a  free  gift  when  they  marry.  They  shall 
marry,  and  be  about  me  always  —  Miss  Kate  and 
Tarvin  Sahib." 

Tarvin  did  not  understand  why  Kate's  hand  was 
withdrawn  swiftly.  He  did  not  know  the  vernac- 
ular as  she  did. 

"He  is  getting  delirious  again,"  said  Kate,  under 
her  breath.  "  Poor,  poor  little  one  I  " 


JL  8TOBY   OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  251 

Tarvin  ground  his  teeth,  and  cursed  Sitabhai 
between  them.  Kate  was  wiping  the  damp  fore- 
head, and  trying  to  still  the  head  as  it  was  thrown 
restlessly  from  side  to  side.  Tarvin  held  the  child's 
hands,  which  closed  fiercely  on  his  own,  as  the  boy 
was  racked  and  convulsed  by  the  last  effects  of  the 
hemp. 

For  some  minutes  he  fought  and  writhed,  calling 
upon  the  names  of  many  gods,  striving  to  reach  his 
sword,  and  ordering  imaginary  regiments  to  hang 
those  white  dogs  to  the  beams  of  the  palace  gate, 
and  to  smoke  them  to  death. 

Then  the  crisis  passed,  and  he  began  to  talk  to 
himself  and  to  call  for  his  mother. 

The  vision  of  a  little  grave  dug  in  the  open 
plain  sloping  to  the  river,  where  they  had  laid  out 
the  Topaz  cemetery,  rose  before  Tarvin's  memory. 
They  were  lowering  Heckler's  first  baby  into  it,  in 
its  pine  coffin;  and  Kate,  standing  by  the  grave- 
side, was  writing  the  child's  name  on  the  finger's 
length  of  smoothed  pine  which  was  to  be  its  only 
headstone. 

"  Nay,  nay,  nay  I "  wailed  the  Maharaj  Kunwar. 
"I  am  speaking  the  truth;  and  oh,  I  was  so  tired 
at  that  pagal  dance  in  the  temple,  and  I  only 
crossed  the  court-yard.  ...  It  was  a  new  girl 
from  Lucknow;  she  sang  the  song  of  'The  Green 
Pulse  of  Mundore.'  .  .  .  Yes;  but  only  some  al- 


252  THE  NAULAHKA. 

mond  curd.  I  was  hungry,  too.  A  little  white 
almond  curd,  mother.  Why  should  I  not  eat  when 
I  feel  inclined?  Am  I  a  sweeper's  son,  or  a 
prince  ?  Pick  me  up !  pick  me  up !  It  is  very  hot 
inside  my  head.  .  .  .  Louder.  I  do  not  under- 
stand. "Will  they  take  me  over  to  Kate  ?  She  will 
make  all  well.  What  was  the  message?"  The 
child  began  to  wring  his  hands  despairingly.  "  The 
message!  the  message!  I  have  forgotten  the  mes- 
sage. No  one  in  the  state  speaks  English  as  I 
speak  English.  But  I  have  forgotten  the  message. 

11  Tiger,  tiger,  burning  bright 
In  the  forests  of  the  night, 
What  immortal  hand  or  eye 
Framed  thy  fearful  symmetry  ? 

Yes,  mother;  till  she  cries.  I  am  to  say  the  whole 
of  it  till  she  cries.  I  will  not  forget.  I  did  not 
forget  the  first  message.  By  the  great  god  Har !  I 
have  forgotten  this  message."  And  he  began  to 
cry. 

Kate,  who  had  watched  so  long  by  bedsides  of 
pain,  was  calm  and  strong;  she  soothed  the  child, 
speaking  to  him  in  a  low,  quieting  voice,  admin- 
istering a  sedative  draught,  doing  the  right  thing, 
as  Tarvin  saw,  surely  and  steadily,  undisturbed. 
It  was  he  who  was  shaken  by  the  agony  that  he 
could  not  alleviate. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  253 

The  Maharaj  Kunwar  drew  a  long,  sobbing  breath, 
and  contracted  his  eyebrows. 

" Mahadeo  ki  .7 at/'*  he  shouted.  "It  has  come 
back.  'A  gypsy  has  done  this.  A  gypsy  has  done 
this.'  And  I  was  to  say  it  until  she  cried." 

Kate  half  rose,  with  an  awful  look  at  Tarvin. 
He  returned  it,  and,  nodding,  strode  from  the  room, 
dashing  the  tears  from  his  eyes. 


254  THE  NAULAHKA. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Heart  of  my  heart,  is  it  meet  or  wiae 

To  warn  a  King  of  his  enemies  ? 

We  know  what  Heaven  or  Hell  may  bring, 

But  no  man  knoweth  the  mind  of  the  King.» 

The  Ballad  of  the  King's  Jett. 

"WANT  to  see  the  Maharajah." 

"He  cannot  be  seen." 

"I  shall  wait  until  he  comes." 

"He  will  not  be  seen  all  day." 

"Then  I  shall  wait  all  day." 

Tarvin  settled  himself  comfortably  in  his  saddle, 
and  drew  up  in  the  centre  of  the  court-yard,  where 
he  was  wont  to  confer  with  the  Maharajah. 

The  pigeons  were  asleep  in  the  sunlight,  and  the 
little  fountain  was  talking  to  itself,  as  a  pigeon 
cooes  before  settling  to  its  nest.  The  white  marble 
flagging  glared  like  hot  iron,  and  waves  of  heat 
flooded  him  from  the  green-shaded  walls.  The 
guardian  of  the  gate  tucked  himself  up  in  his 
sheet  again  and  slept.  And  with  him  slept,  as  it 
seemed,  the  whole  world  in  a  welter  of  silence  as 
intense  as  the  heat.  Tarvin 's  horse  champed  his 

•  Copyright,  1892,  by  Macmillmn  *  Co. 


A   STORY   OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  255 

bit,  and  the  echoes  of  the  ringing  iron  tinkled  from 
side  to  side  of  the  court-yard.  The  man  himself 
whipped  a  silk  handkerchief  round  his  neck  as  some 
slight  protection  against  the  peeling  sunbeams,  and, 
scorning  the  shade  of  the  archway,  waited  in  the 
open  that  the  Maharajah  might  see  there  was  an 
urgency  in  his  visit. 

In  a  few  minutes  there  crept  out  of  the  stillness 
a  sound  like  the  far-off  rustle  of  wind  across  a 
wheat-field  on  a  still  autumn  day.  It  came  from 
behind  the  green  shutters,  and  with  its  coming 
Tarvin  mechanically  straightened  himself  in  the 
saddle.  It  grew,  died  down  again,  and  at  last 
remained  fixed  in  a  continuous  murmur  for  which 
the  ear  strained  uneasily  —  such  a  murmur  as  her- 
alds the  advance  of  a  loud  racing  tide  in  a,  night- 
mare, when  the  dreamer  cannot  flee  nor  declare  his 
terror  in  any  voice  but  a  whisper.  After  the  rustle 
came  the  smell  of  jasmine  and  musk  that  Tarvin 
knew  well. 

The  palace  wing  had  wakened  from  its  afternoon 
siesta,  and  was  looking  at  him  with  a  hundred 
eyes.  He  felt  the  glances  that  he  could  not  see, 
and  they  filled  him  with  wrath  as  he  sat  immov- 
able, while  the  horse  swished  at  the  flies.  Some- 
body behind  the  shutters  yawned  a  polite  little 
yawn.  Tarvin  chose  to  regard  it  as  an  insult,  and 
resolved  to  stay  where  he  was  till  he  or  the  horse 


256  THE  NAULAHKA, 

dropped.  The  shadow  of  the  afternoon  sun  crept 
across  the  court-yard  inch  by  inch,  and  wrapped 
him  at  last  in  stifling  shade. 

There  was  a  muffled  hum  —  quite  distinct  from 
the  rustle  —  of  voices  within  the  palace.  A  little 
ivory-inlaid  door  opened,  and  the  Maharajah  rolled 
into  the  court-yard.  He  was  in  the  ugliest  muslin 
undress,  and  his  little  saffron-colored  Rajput  turban 
was  set  awry  on  his  head,  so  that  the  emerald 
plume  tilted  drunkenly.  His  eyes  were  red  with 
opium,  and  he  walked  as  a  bear  walks  when  he  is 
overtaken  by  the  dawn  in  the  poppy-field,  where  he 
has  gorged  his  fill  through  the  night-watches. 

Tarvin's  face  darkened  at  the  sight,  and  the 
Maharajah,  catching  the  look,  bade  his  attendants 
stand  back  out  of  earshot. 

"Have  you  been  waiting  long,  Tarvin  Sahib?" 
he  asked  huskily,  with  an  air  of  great  good  will. 
"You  know  I  see  no  man  at  this  afternoon  hour, 
and  —  and  they  did  not  bring  me  the  news." 

"I  can  wait,"  said  Tarvin,  composedly. 

The  King  seated  himself  in  the  broken  Windsor 
chair,  which  was  splitting  in  the  heat,  and  eyed 
Tarvin  suspiciously. 

"  Have  they  given  you  enough  convicts  from  the 
jails?  Why  are  you  not  on  the  dam,  then,  instead 
of  breaking  my  rest?  By  God!  is  a  king  to  have 
no  peace  because  of  you  and  such  as  you?" 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  257 

Tarvin  let  this  outburst  go  by  without  comment. 

"I  have  come  to  you  about  the  Maharaj  Kun- 
war,"  he  said  quietly. 

"What  of  him?"  said  the  Maharajah,  quickly. 
"I  —  I  —  have  not  seen  him  for  some  days." 

"Why?"  asked  Tarvin,  bluntly. 

"Affairs  of  state  and  urgent  political  necessity," 
murmured  the  King,  evading  Tarvin 's  wrathful 
eyes.  "  Why  should  I  be  troubled  by  these  things, 
when  I  know  that  no  harm  has  come  to  the  boy?" 

"No  harm!" 

"How  could  harm  arrive?"  The  voice  dropped 
into  an  almost  conciliatory  whine.  "  You  yourself, 
Tarvin  Sahib,  promised  to  be  his  true  friend. 
That  was  on  the  day  you  rode  so  well,  and  stood 
so  well  against  my  body-guard.  Never  have  I 
seen  such  riding,  and  therefore  why  should  I  be 
troubled?  Let  us  drink." 

He  beckoned  to  his  attendants.  One  of  them 
came  forward  with  a  long  silver  tumbler  concealed 
beneath  his  flowing  garments,  and  poured  into  it 
an  allowance  of  liqueur  brandy  that  made  Tarvin, 
used  to  potent  drinks,  open  his  eyes.  The  second 
man  produced  a  bottle  of  champagne,  opened  it 
with  a  skill  born  of  long  practice,  and  rilled  up 
the  tumbler  with  the  creaming  wine. 

The  Maharajah  drank  deep,  and  wiped  the  foam 
from  his  beard,  saying  apologetically:  "Such  things 

8 


258  THE  NAULAHKA. 

are  not  for  political  agents  to  see;  but  you,  Sahib, 
are  true  friend  of  the  state.  Therefore  I  let  you 
see.  Shall  they  mix  you  one  like  this?" 

"Thanks.  I  didn't  come  here  to  drink.  I  came 
to  tell  you  that  the  Maharaj  has  been  very  ill." 

"I  was  told  there  was  a  little  fever,"  said  the 
King,  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  "But  he  is  with 
Miss  Sheriff,  and  she  will  make  all  well.  Just  a 
little  fever,  Tarvin  Sahib.  Drink  with  me." 

"A  little  hell!  Can  you  understand  what  I 
am  saying?  The  little  chap  has  been  half  pois- 
oned." 

"Then  it  was  the  English  medicines,"  said  the 
Maharajah,  with  a  bland  smile.  "  Once  they  made 
me  very  sick,  and  I  went  back  to  the  native 
hakims.  You  are  always  making  funny  talks,  Tar- 
vin Sahib." 

With  a  mighty  effort  Tarvin  choked  down  his 
rage,  and  tapped  his  foot  with  his  riding-whip, 
speaking  very  clearly  and  distinctly:  "I  haven't 
come  here  to  make  funny  talk  to-day.  The  little 
chap  is  with  Miss  Sheriff  now.  He  was  driven 
over  there;  and  somebody  in  the  palace  has  been 
trying  to  poison  him  with  hemp." 

"  Bhang !  "  said  the  Maharajah,  stupidly. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  call  the  mess,  but  he 
has  been  poisoned.  But  for  Miss  Sheriff  he  would 
have  died  —  your  first  son  would  have  died.  He 


A   STORY  OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  259 

has  been  poisoned,  — do  you  hear,  Maharajah  Sahib? 
—  and  by  some  one  in  the  palace." 

"He  has  eaten  something  bad,  and  it  has  made 
him  sick,"  said  the  King,  surlily.  "Little  boys 
eat  anything.  By  God!  no  man  would  dare  to  lay 
a  finger  on  my  son." 

"What  would  you  do  to  prevent  it?" 

The  Maharajah  half  rose  to  his  feet,  and  his 
red  eyes  filled  with  fury.  "I  would  tie  him  to 
the  fore  foot  of  my  biggest  elephant,  and  kill  him 
through  an  afternoon ! "  Then  he  relapsed,  foam- 
ing, into  the  vernacular,  and  poured  out  a  list  of 
the  hideous  tortures  that  were  within  his  will  but 
not  in  his  power  to  inflict.  "  I  would  do  all  these 
things  to  any  man  who  touched  him,"  he  con- 
cluded. 

Tarvin  smiled  incredulously. 

"I  know  what  you  think,"  stormed  the  King, 
maddened  by  the  liquor  and  the  opium.  "You 
think  that  because  there  is  an  English  government 
I  can  make  trials  only  by  law,  and  all  that  non- 
sense. Stuff!  What  do  I  care  for  the  law  that 
is  in  books?  Will  the  walls  of  my  palace  tell 
anything  that  I  do?" 

"They  won't.  If  they  did,  they  might  let  you 
know  that  it  is  a  woman  inside  the  palace  who  is 
at  the  bottom  of  this." 

The    Maharajah's    face    turned    gray    under    its 


260  THE  NAULAHKA. 

brown.  Then  he  burst  forth  anew,  almost  huskily: 
"Am  I  a  king  or  a  potter  that  I  must  have  the 
affairs  of  my  zenana  dragged  into  the  sunlight 
by  any  white  dog  that  chooses  to  howl  at  me? 
Go  out,  or  the  guard  will  drive  you  out  like  a 
jackal." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Tarvin,  calmly.  "But 
what  has  it  to  do  with  the  Prince,  Maharajah 
Sahib?  Come  over  to  Mr.  Estes's,  and  I'll  show 
you.  You've  had  some  experience  of  drugs,  I  sup- 
pose. You  can  decide  for  yourself.  The  boy  has 
been  poisoned." 

"  It  was  an  accursed  day  for  my  state  when  I  first 
allowed  the  missionaries  to  come,  and  a  worse  day 
when  I  did  not  drive  you  out." 

"Not  in  the  least.  I'm  here  to  look  after  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar,  and  I'm  going  to  do  it.  You 
prefer  leaving  him  to  be  killed  by  your  women." 

"Tarvin  Sahib,  do  you  know  what  you  say?" 

"Shouldn't  be  saying  it  if  I  didn't.  I  have  all 
the  proof  in  my  hands." 

"But  when  there  is  a  poisoning  there  are  no 
proofs  of  any  kind,  least  of  all  when  a  woman 
poisons!  One  does  justice  on  suspicion,  and  by 
the  English  law  it  is  a  most  illiberal  policy  to  kill 
on  suspicion.  Tarvin  Sahib,  the  English  have 
taken  away  from  me  everything  that  a  Rajput 
desires,  and  I  and  the  others  are  rolling  in  idle- 


A   STORY  OP   WEST   AND   EAST.  261 

ness  like  horses  that  never  go  to  exercise.  But 
at  least  I  am  master  there!" 

He  waved  a  hand  toward  the  green  shutters,  and 
spoke  in  a  lower  key,  dropping  back  into  his  chair, 
and  closing  his  eyes. 

Tarvin  looked  at  him  despairingly. 

"  No  one  man  would  dare  —  no  man  would  dare, " 
murmured  the  Maharajah,  more  faintly.  "And  as 
for  the  other  thing  that  you  spoke  of,  it  is  not  in 
your  power.  By  God!  I  am  a  Rajput  and  a  king. 
I  do  not  talk  of  the  life  behind  the  curtain." 

Then  Tarvin  took  his  courage  in  both  hands 
and  spoke. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  talk,"  he  said;  "I  merely 
want  to  warn  you  against  Sitabhai.  She's  poison- 
ing the  Prince." 

The  Maharajah  shuddered.  That  a  European 
should  mention  the  name  of  his  queen  was  in  itself 
sufficient  insult,  and  one  beyond  all  his  experience. 
But  that  a  European  should  cry  aloud  in  the  open 
court-yard  a  charge  such  as  Tarvin  had  just  made 
surpassed  imagination.  The  Maharajah  had  just 
come  from  Sitabhai,  who  had  lulled  him  to  rest 
with  songs  and  endearments  sacred  to  him  alone; 
and  here  was  this  lean  outlander  assailing  her  with 
vile  charges.  But  for  the  drugs  he  would,  in  the 
extremity  of  his  rage,  have  fallen  upon  Tarvin, 
who  was  saying,  "I  can  prove  it  quite  enough  to 
satisfy  Colonel  Nolan." 


262  THIS  NATTLAHKA. 

The  Maharajah  stared  at  Tarvin  with  shiny  eyes, 
and  Tarvin  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  was 
going  to  fall  in  a  fit;  but  it  was  the  drink  and 
the  opium  reasserting  their  power  upon  him.  He 
mumbled  angrily.  The  head  fell  forward,  the 
words  ceased,  and  he  sat  in  his  chair  breathing 
heavily,  as  senseless  as  a  log. 

Tarvin  gathered  up  his  reins,  and  watched  the 
sodden  monarch  for  a  long  time  in  silence,  as 
the  rustle  behind  the  shutters  rose  and  fell.  Then 
he  turned  to  go,  and  rode  out  through  the  arch, 
thinking. 

Something  sprang  out  of  the  darkness  where  the 
guard  slept,  and  where  the  King's  fighting  apes 
were  tethered;  and  the  horse  reared  as  a  gray  ape, 
its  chain  broken  at  the  waistband,  flung  itself  on 
the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  chattering.  Tarvin  felt 
and  smelt  the  beast.  It  thrust  one  paw  into  the 
horse's  mane,  and  with  the  other  encircled  his  own 
throat.  Instinctively  he  reached  back,  and  before 
the  teeth  under  the  grimy  blue  gums  had  time 
to  close  he  had  fired  twice,  pressing  the  muzzle  of 
the  pistol  into  the  hide.  The  creature  rolled  off 
to  the  ground,  moaning  like  a  human  being,  and 
the  smoke  of  the  two  shots  drifted  back  through 
the  hollow  of  the  arch  and  dissolved  in  the  open 
court-yard. 


A  STOEY   OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  263 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Strangers  drawn  from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  jewelled  and  plumed 

were  we. 
I  was  the  Lord  of  the  Inca  Race,  and  she  was  the  Queen  of  the 

Sea. 

Under  the  stars  beyond  our  stars  where  the  reinless  meteors  glow, 
Hotly  we  stormed  Valhalla,  a  million  years  ago. 

Dust  of  the  stars  was  under  our  feet,  glitter  of  stars  above  — 
Wrecks  of  our  wrath  dropped  reeling  down  as  we  fought  and  we 

spurned  and  we  strove  — 
Worlds  upon  worlds  we  tossed  aside  and  scattered  them  to  and 

fro, 
The  night  that  we  stormed  Valhalla,  a  million  years  ago. 

She  with  the  star  I  had  marked  for  my  own  —  I  with  my  set  de- 
sire— 

Lost  in  the  loom  of  the  Night  of  Nights,  'wildered  by  worlds  afire  — 
Met  in  a  war  'twixt  love  and  hate  where  the  reinless  meteors  glow, 
Hewing  our  way  to  Valhalla,  a  million  years  ago.* 

The  Sack  of  the  Gods. 

IN  summer  the  nights  of  the  desert  are  hotter 
than  the  days,  for  when  the  sun  goes  down  earth, 
masonry,  and  marble  give  forth  their  stored  heat, 
and  the  low  clouds,  promising  rain  and  never 
bringing  it,  allow  nothing  to  escape. 

Tarvin  was  tying  at  rest  in  the  veranda  of  the 
rest-house,  smoking  a  cheroot  and  wondering  how 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  Mactnillan  *  Co. 


264  THE  NAULAHKA. 

far  he  had  bettered  the  case  of  the  Maharaj  Kunwar 
by  appealing  to  the  Maharajah.  His  reflections 
were  not  disturbed;  the  last  of  the  commercial 
travellers  had  gone  back  to  Calcutta  and  Bombay, 
grumbling  up  to  the  final  moment  of  their  stay, 
and  the  rest-house  was  all  his  own.  Surveying 
his  kingdom,  he  meditated,  between  the  puffs  of 
his  cheroot,  on  the  desperate  and  apparently  hope- 
less condition  of  things.  They  had  got  to  the 
precise  point  where  he  liked  them.  When  a  situa- 
tion looked  as  this  one  did,  only  Nicholas  Tarvin 
could  put  it  through  and  come  out  on  top.  Kate 
was  obdurate ;  the  Naulahka  was  damnably  coy ;  the 
Maharajah  was  ready  to  turn  him  out  of  the  state. 
Sitabhai  had  heard  him  denounce  her.  His  life 
was  likely  to  come  to  a  sudden  and  mysterious 
end,  without  so  much  as  the  satisfaction  of  know- 
ing that  Heckler  and  the  boys  would  avenge  him ; 
and  if  it  went  on,  it  looked  as  though  it  would 
have  to  go  on  without  Kate,  and  without  the  gift  of 
new  life  to  Topaz  —  in  other  words,  without  being 
worth  the  trouble  of  living. 

The  moonlight,  shining  on  the  city  beyond  the 
sands,  threw  fantastic  shadows  on  temple  spires  and 
the  watch-towers  along  the  walls.  A  dog  in  search 
of  food  snuffed  dolefully  about  Tarvin's  chair,  and 
withdrew  to  howl  at  him  at  a  distance.  It  was  a 
singularly  melancholy  howl.  Tarvin  smoked  till 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  265 

the  moon  went  down  in  the  thick  darkness  of  an 
Indian  night.  She  had  scarcely  set  when  he  was 
aware  of  something  blacker  than  the  night  between 
him  and  the  horizon. 

"Is  it  you,  Tarvin  Sahib?"  the  voice  inquired 
in  broken  English. 

Tarvin  sprang  to  his  feet  before  replying.  He 
was  beginning  to  be  a  little  suspicious  of  fresh 
apparitions.  His  hand  went  to  his  hip-pocket. 
Any  horror,  he  argued,  might  jump  out  at  him 
from  the  darkness  in  a  country  managed  on  the 
plan  of  a  Kiralfy  trick  spectacle. 

"Nay;  do  not  be  afraid,"  said  the  voice.  "It 
is  I  —  Juggut  Singh." 

Tarvin  pulled  thoughtfully  at  his  cigar.  "The 
state  is  full  of  Singhs,"  he  said.  "Which?" 

"  I,  Juggut  Singh,  ol  the  household  of  the  Maha- 
rajah. " 

"H'm.     Does  the  King  want  to  see  me?" 

The  figure  advanced  a  pace  nearer. 

"No,  Sahib;  the  Queen." 

"Which?"  repeated  Tarvin. 

The  figure  was  in  the  veranda  at  his  side,  almost 
whispering  in  his  ear.  "There  is  only  one  who 
would  dare  to  leave  the  palace.  It  is  the  Gypsy." 

Tarvin  snapped  his  fingers  blissfully  and  sound- 
lessly in  the  dark,  and  made  a  little  click  of  tri- 
umph with  his  tongue.  "Pleasant  calling-hours 
the  lady  keeps,"  he  said. 


266  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"This  is  no  place  for  speaking,  Sahib.  I  was 
to  say,  'Come,  unless  you  are  afraid  of  the  dark.' ' 

"  Oh,  were  you  ?  Well,  now,  look  here,  Juggut ; 
let's  talk  this  thing  out.  I'd  like  to  see  your 
friend  Sitabhai.  Where  are  you  keeping  her? 
Where  do  you  want  me  to  go?" 

"I  was  to  say,  'Come  with  me.'  Are  you 
afraid?"  The  man  spoke  this  time  at  his  own 
prompting. 

"Oh,  I'm  afraid  fast  enough,"  said  Tarvin,  blow- 
ing a  cloud  of  smoke  from  him.  "It  isn't  that." 

"There  are  horses  —  very  swift  horses.  It  is 
the  Queen's  order.  Come  with  me." 

Tarvin  smoked  on,  unhurrying;  and  when  he 
finally  picked  himself  out  of  the  chair  it  was  muscle 
by  muscle.  He  drew  his  revolver  from  his  pocket, 
turned  the  chambers  slowly  one  after  another  to 
the  vague  light,  under  Juggut  Singh's  watchful 
eye,  and  returned  it  to  his  pocket  again,  giving 
his  companion  a  wink  as  he  did  so. 

"Well,  come  on,  Juggut,"  he  said,  and  they 
passed  behind  the  rest-house  to  a  spot  where  two 
horses,  their  heads  enveloped  in  cloaks  to  prevent 
them  from  neighing,  were  waiting  at  their  pickets. 
The  man  mounted  one,  and  Tarvin  took  the  other 
silently,  satisfying  himself  before  getting  into  the 
saddle  that  the  girths  were  not  loose  this  time. 
They  left  the  city  road  at  a  walking  pace  by  a 
cart-track  leading  to  the  hills. 


A  8TOKY   OF   WEST   AND   EAST. 

"Now,"  said  Juggut  Singh,  after  they  had  gone 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  this  fashion,  and  were  alone 
under  the  stars,  "we  can  ride." 

He  bowed  forward,  struck  his  stirrups  home,  and 
began  lashing  his  animal  furiously.  Nothing  short 
of  the  fear  of  death  would  have  made  the  pampered 
eunuch  of  the  palace  ride  at  this  pace.  Tarviii 
watched  him  roll  in  the  saddle,  chuckled  a  little, 
and  followed. 

"You  wouldn't  make  much  of  a  cow-puncher, 
Jugget,  would  you?" 

"Ride,"  gasped  Juggut  Singh,  "for  the  cleft 
between  the  two  hills  —  ride !  " 

The  dry  sand  flew  behind  their  horses'  hoofs,  and 
the  hot  winds  whistled  about  their  ears  as  they 
headed  up  the  easy  slope  toward  the  hills,  three 
miles  from  the  palace.  In  the  old  days,  before 
the  introduction  of  telegraphs,  the  opium  specula- 
tors of  the  desert  were  wont  to  telegraph  the  rise 
and  fall  in  the  price  of  the  drug  from  little  beacon- 
towers  on  the  hills.  It  was  toward  one  of  these 
disused  stations  that  Juggut  Singh  was  straining. 
The  horses  fell  into  a  walk  as  the  slope  grew 
steeper,  and  the  outline  of  the  squat-domed  tower 
began  to  show  clear  against  the  sky.  A  few  mo- 
ments later  Tarvin  heard  the  hoofs  of  their  horses 
ring  on  solid  marble,  and  saw  that  he  was  riding 
near  the  edge  of  a  great  reservoir,  full  of  water  to 
the  lip. 


268  THE  NAULAHKA. 

Eastward,  a  few  twinkling  lights  in  the  open 
plain  showed  the  position  of  Rhatore,  and  took 
him  back  to  the  night  when  he  had  said  good  by 
to  Topaz  from  the  rear  platform  of  a  Pullman. 
Night-fowl  called  to  one  another  from  the  weeds 
at  the  far  end  of  the  tank,  and  a  great  fish  leaped 
at  the  reflection  of  a  star. 

"The  watch-tower  is  at  the  further  end  of  the 
dam,"  said  Juggut  Singh.  "The  Gypsy  is  there." 

"Will  they  never  have  done  with  that  name?" 
uttered  an  incomparably  sweet  voice  out  of  the 
darkness.  "It  is  well  that  I  am  of  a  gentle 
temper,  or  the  fish  would  know  more  of  thee,  Juggut 
Singh." 

Tarvin  checked  his  horse  with  a  jerk,  for  almost 
under  his  bridle  stood  a  figure  enveloped  from  head 
to  foot  in  a  mist  of  pale-yellow  gauze.  It  had 
started  up  from  behind  the  red  tomb  of  a  once 
famous  Rajput  cavalier  who  was  supposed  by  the 
country-side  to  gallop  nightly  round  the  dam  he 
had  built.  This  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  the 
Dungar  Talao  was  not  visited  after  nightfall. 

"Come  down,  Tarvin  Sahib,"  said  the  voice 
mockingly  in  English.  "I,  at  least,  am  not  a 
gray  ape.  Juggut  Singh,  go  wait  with  the  horses 
below  the  watch-tower." 

"Yes,  Juggut;  and  don't  go  to  sleep,"  enjoined 
Tarvin  —  "we  might  want  you."  He  alighted, 
and  stood  before  the  veiled  fqrm  of  Sitabhai. 


A   STORY   OF  WEST   AND  BAST.  269 

"Shekand,"  she  said,  after  a  little  pause,  putting 
out  a  hand  that  was  smaller  even  than  Kate's. 
"  Ah,  Sahib,  I  knew  that  you  would  come.  I  knew 
that  you  were  not  afraid." 

She  held  his  hand  as  she  spoke,  and  pressed  it 
tenderly.  Tarvin  buried  the  tiny  hand  deep  in 
his  engulfing  paw,  and,  pressing  it  in  a  grip  that 
made  her  give  an  involuntary  cry,  shook  it  with 
a  hearty  motion. 

"Happy  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  he  said, 
as  she  murmured  under  her  breath,  "By  Indur, 
he  has  a  hold! " 

"And  I  am  pleased  to  see  you,  too,"  she  an- 
swered aloud.  Tarvin  noted  the  music  of  the 
voice.  He  wondered  what  the  face  behind  the  veil 
might  look  like. 

She  sat  down  composedly  on  the  slab  of  the 
tomb,  motioning  him  to  a  seat  beside  her. 

"All  white  men  like  straight  talk,"  she  said, 
speaking  slowly,  and  with  uncertain  mastery  of 
English  pronunciation.  "Tell  me,  Tarvin  Sahib, 
how  much  you  know." 

She  withdrew  her  veil  as  she  spoke,  and  turned 
her  face  toward  him.  Tarvin  saw  that  she  was 
beautiful.  The  perception  thrust  itself  insensibly 
between  him  and  his  other  perceptions  about  her. 

"You  don't  want  me  to  give  myself  away,  do 
you,  Queen?" 


270  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"I  do  not  understand.  But  I  know  you  do  not 
talk  like  the  other  white  men,"  she  said  sweetly. 

"Well,  then,  you  don't  expect  me  to  tell  you 
the  truth?" 

"No,"  she  replied.  "Else  you  would  tell  me 
why  you  are  here.  Why  do  you  give  me  so  much 
trouble  ?  " 

"J>0  I  trouble  you?" 

Sitabhai  laughed,  throwing  back  her  head,  and 
clasping  her  hands  behind  her  neck.  Tarvin  watched 
her  curiously  in  the  starlight.  All  his  senses  were 
alert;  he  was  keenly  on  his  guard,  and  he  cast  a 
wary  eye  about  and  behind  him  from  time  to  time. 
But  he  could  see  nothing  but  the  dull  glimmer  of 
the  water  that  lapped  at  the  foot  of  the  marble 
steps,  and  hear  nothing  save  the  cry  of  the  night- 
owls. 

"O  Tarvin  Sahib,"  she  said.  "You  know! 
After  the  first  time  I  was  sorry." 

"Which  time  was  that?"  inquired  Tarvin, 
vaguely. 

"  Of  course  it  was  when  the  saddle  turned.  And 
then  when  the  timber  fell  from  the  archway  I 
thought  at  least  that  I  had  maimed  your  horse. 
Was  he  hurt?" 

"No,"  said  Tarvin,  stupefied  by  her  engaging 
frankness. 

"Surely  you  knew,"  she  said  almost  reproach- 
fully. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND   EAST.  271 

He  shook  his  head.  "No,  Sitabhai,  my  dear," 
he  said  slowly  and  impressively;  "I  wasn't  on  to 
you,  and  it's  my  eternal  shame.  But  I'm  begin- 
ning to  sabe.  You  worked  the  little  business  at 
the  dam,  too,  I  suppose,  and  the  bridge  and  the 
bullock-carts.  And  I  thought  it  was  their  infernal 
clumsiness!  Well,  I'll  be  —  "  He  whistled  melo- 
diously, and  the  sound  was  answered  by  the  hoarse 
croak  of  a  crane  across  the  reeds. 

The  Queen  leaped  to  her  feet,  thrusting  her 
hand  into  her  bosom.  "A  signal!"  Then,  sink- 
ing back  upon  the  slab  of  the  tomb,  "  But  you  have 
brought  no  one  with  you.  I  know  you  are  not 
afraid  to  go  alone." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  trying  to  do  you  up,  young  lady," 
he  answered.  "I'm  too  busy  admiring  your  pic- 
turesque and  systematic  deviltry.  So  you're  at 
the  bottom  of  all  my  troubles?  That  quicksand 
trick  was  a  pretty  one.  Do  you  often  work  it?" 

"Oh,  on  the  dam!"  exclaimed  the  Queen,  wav- 
ing her  hands  lightly.  "I  only  gave  them  orders 
to  do  what  they  could.  But  they  are  very  clumsy 
people  —  only  coolie  people.  They  told  me  what 
they  had  done,  and  I  was  angry." 

"Kill  any  one?" 

"No;  why  should  I?" 

"Well,  if  it  comes  to  that,  why  should  you  be 
so  hot  on  killing  me?"  inquired  Tarvin,  dryly. 


272  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"I  do  not  like  any  white  men  to  stay  here,  and 
I  knew  that  you  had  come  to  stay. "  Tarvin  smiled 
at  the  unconscious  Americanism.  "Besides,"  she 
went  on,  "  the  Maharajah  was  fond  of  you,  and  I  had 
never  killed  a  white  man.  Then,  too,  I  like  you." 

"Oh!"  responded  Tarvin,  expressively. 

"  By  Malang  Shah,  and  you  never  knew !  "  She 
was  swearing  by  the  god  of  her  own  clan  —  the 
god  of  the  gypsies. 

"Well,  don't  rub  it  in,"  said  Tarvin. 

"And  you  killed  my  big  pet  ape,"  she  went 
on.  "He  used  to  salaam  to  me  in  the  mornings 
like  Luchman  Rao,  the  prime  minister.  Tarvin 
Sahib,  I  have  known  many  Englishmen.  I  have 
danced  on  the  slack-rope  before  the  mess-tents  of 
the  officers  on  the  line  of  march,  and  taken  my 
little  begging-gourd  up  to  the  big  bearded  colonel 
wherx  I  was  no  higher  than  his  knee."  She  low- 
ered her  hand  to  within  a  foot  of  the  ground. 
"And  when  I  grew  older,"  she  continued,  "I 
thought  that  I  knew  the  hearts  of  all  men.  But, 
by  Malang  Shah,  Tarvin  Sahib,  I  never  saw  a  man 
like  unto  you!  Nay,"  she  went  on  almost  beseech- 
ingly, "  do  not  say  that  you  did  not  know.  There 
is  a  love-song  in  my  tongue,  'I  have  not  slept 
between  moon  and  moon  because  of  you ' ;  and 
indeed  for  me  that  song  is  quite  true.  Sometimes 
I  think  that  I  did  not  quite  wish  to  see  you  die. 


A   STORY   OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  273 

But  it  would  be  better  that  you  were  dead.  I, 
and  I  alono,  command  this  state.  And  now,  after 
that  which  you  have  told  the  King  — " 

"Yes?    You  heard,  then?" 

She  nodded.  "  After  that  I  cannot  see  that  there 
is  any  other  way  —  unless  you  go  away." 

"I'm  not  going,"  said  Tarvin. 

"That  is  good,"  said  the  Queen,  with  a  little 
laugh.  "And  so  I  shall  not  miss  seeing  you. in 
the  court-yard  day  by  day.  I  thought  the  sun 
would  have  killed  you  when  you  waited  for  the 
Maharajah.  Be  grateful  to  me,  Tarvin  Sahib,  for 
I  made  the  Maharajah  come  out.  And  you  did  me 
an  ill  turn." 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  said  Tarvin,  earnestly, 
"if  you'd  pull  in  your  wicked  little  fangs,  no 
one  wants  to  hurt  you.  But  I  can't  let  you  beat 
me  about  the  Maharaj  Kunwar.  I'm  here  to  see 
that  the  young  man  stays  with  us.  Keep  off  the 
grass,  and  I'll  drop  it." 

"Again  I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  Queen, 
bewildered.  "  But  what  is  the  life  of  a  little  child 
to  you  who  are  a  stranger  here?" 

"What  is  it  to  me?  Why,  it's  ifair  play;  it's 
the  life  of  a  little  child.  What  more  do  you 
want?  Is  nothing  sacred  to  you?" 

"I  also  have  a  son,"  returned  the  Queen,  "and 
he  is  not  weak.  Nay,  Tarvin  Sahib,  the  child 

T 


274  THE  NAULAHKA. 

always  was  sickly  from  his  birth.  How  can  he 
govern  men?  My  son  will  be  a  Rajput;  and  in 
the  time  to  come —  But  that  is  no  concern  of 
the  white  men.  Let  this  little  one  go  back  to  the 


"Not  if  I  know  it,"  responded  Tarvin,  deci- 
sively. 

"Otherwise,"  swept  on  the  Queen,  "he  will  live 
infirm  and  miserable  for  ninety  years.  I  know  the 
bastard  Kulu  stock  that  he  comes  from.  Yes;  I 
have  sung  at  the  gate  of  his  mother's  palace  when 
she  and  I  were  children  —  I  in  the  dust,  and  she 
in  her  marriage-litter.  To-day  she  is  in  the  dust. 
Tarvin  Sahib,"  —  her  voice  melted  appealingly, — 
"I  shall  never  bear  another  son;  but  I  may  at 
least  mould  the  state  from  behind  the  curtain,  as 
many  queens  have  done.  I  am  not  a  palace-bred 
woman.  Those"  —  she  pointed  scornfully  toward 
the  lights  of  Rhatore  —  "  have  never  seen  the  wheat 
wave,  or  heard  the  wind  blow,  or  sat  in  a  saddle, 
or  talked  face  to  face  with  men  in  the  streets. 
They  call  me  the  gypsy,  and  they  cower  under 
their  robes  like  fat  slugs  when  I  choose  to  lift  my 
hand  to  the  Maharajah's  beard.  Their  bards  sing 
of  their  ancestry  for  twelve  hundred  years.  They 
are  noble,  forsooth !  By  Indur  and  Allah,  —  yea, 
and  the  God  of  your  missionaries  too,  —  their  chil- 
dren and  the  British  government  shall  remember 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  275 

me  for  twice  twelve  hundred  years.  Ahi,  Tarvin 
Sahib,  you  do  not  know  how  wise  my  little  son 
is.  I  do  not  let  him  go  to  the  missionary's.  All 
that  he  shall  need  afterward  —  and  indeed  it  is 
no  little  thing  to  govern  this  state  —  he  shall  learn 
from  me;  for  I  have  seen  the  world,  and  I  know. 
And  until  you  came  all  was  going  so  softly,  so 
softly,  to  its  end!  The  little  one  would  have  died 
—  yes;  and  there  would  have  been  no  more  trouble. 
And  never  man  nor  woman  in  the  palace  would 
have  breathed  to  the  King  one  word  of  what  you 
cried  aloud  before  the  sun  in  the  court-yard.  Now, 
suspicion  will  never  cease  in  the  King's  mind, 
and  I  do  not  know  —  I  do  not  know  — "  She 
bent  forward  earnestly.  "Tarvin  Sahib,  if  I  have 
spoken  one  word  of  truth  this  night,  tell  me  how 
much  is  known  to  you." 

Tarvin  preserved  absolute  silence.  She  stole  one 
hand  pleadingly  on  his  knee.  "And  none  would 
have  suspected.  When  the  ladies  of  the  Viceroy 
came  last  year,  I  gave  out  of  my  own  treasures 
twenty-five  thousand  rupees  to  the  nursing-hospi- 
tal, and  the  lady  sahib  kissed  me  on  both  cheeks, 
and  I  talked  English,  and  showed  them  how  I 
spent  my  time  knitting  —  I  who  knit  and  unknit 
the  hearts  of  men." 

This  time  Tarvin  did  not  whistle;  he  merely 
smiled  and  murmured  sympathetically.  The  large 


276  THE  NAULAHKA. 

and  masterly  range  of  her  wickedness,  and  the 
coolness  with  which  she  addressed  herself  to  it, 
gave  her  a  sort  of  distinction.  More  than  this, 
he  respected  her  for  the  personal  achievement  which 
of  all  feats  most  nearly  appeals  to  the  breast  of  the 
men  of  the  West  —  she  had  done  him  up.  It  was 
true  her  plans  had  failed;  but  she  had  played  them 
all  on  him  without  his  knowledge.  He  almost 
revered  her  for  it. 

"Now  you  begin  to  understand,"  said  Sitabhai; 
"there  is  something  more  to  think  of.  Do  you 
mean  to  go  to  Colonel  Nolan,  Sahib,  with  all  your 
story  about  me?" 

"Unless  you  keep  your  hands  off  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar  —  yes,"  said  Tarvin,  not  allowing  his  feel- 
ings to  interfere  with  business. 

"That  is  very  foolish,"  said  the  Queen;  "because 
Colonel  Nolan  will  give  much  trouble  to  the  King, 
and  the  King  will  turn  the  palace  into  confusion, 
and  every  one  of  my  handmaids,  except  a  few, 
will  give  witness  against  me;  and  I  perhaps  shall 
come  to  be  much  suspected.  Then  you  would 
think,  Tarvin  Sahib,  that  you  had  prevented  me. 
But  you  cannot  stay  here  forever.  You  cannot 
stay  here  until  I  die.  And  so  soon  as  you  are 
gone  —  "  She  snapped  her  fingers. 

"You  won't  get  the  chance,"  said  Tarvin,  un- 
shakenly.  "I'll  fix  that.  What  do  you  take  me 
for?" 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  277 

The  Queen  bit  the  back  of  her  forefinger  irres- 
olutely. There  was  no  saying  what  this  man, 
who  strode  unharmed  through  her  machinations, 
might  or  might  not  be  able  to  do.  Had  she  been 
dealing  with  one  of  her  own  race,  she  would  have 
played  threat  against  threat.  But  the  perfectly 
composed  and  loose-knit  figure  by  her  side,  watch- 
ing every  movement,  chin  in  hand,  ready,  alert, 
confident,  was  an  unknown  quantity  that  baffled 
and  distressed  her. 

There  was  a  sound  of  a  discreet  cough,  and 
Juggut  Singh  waddled  toward  them,  bowing  ab- 
jectly, to  whisper  something  to  the  Queen.  She 
laughed  scornfully,  and  motioned  him  back  to  his 
post. 

"He  says  the  night  is  passing,"  she  explained, 
"and  it  is  death  for  him  and  for  me  to  be  without 
the  palace." 

"Don't  let  me  keep  you,"*  said  Tarvin,  rising. 
"I  think  we  understand  each  other."  He  looked 
into  her  eyes.  "Hands  off!" 

"Then  I  may  not  do  what  I  please?"  she  said, 
"and  you  will  go  to  Colonel  Nolan  to-morrow?" 

"That  depends,"  said  Tarvin,  shutting  his  lips. 
He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pockets  as  he  stood 
looking  down  at  her. 

"Seat  yourself  again  a  moment,  Tarvin  Sahib,'* 
said  Sitabhai,  patting  the  slab  of  the  tomb  invit- 


278  THE  NAULAHKA. 

ingly  with  her  little  palm.  Tarvin  obeyed.  "  Now, 
if  I  let  no  more  timber  fall,  and  keep  the  gray 
apes  tied  fast  —  " 

"  And  dry  up  the  quicksands  in  the  Amet  River,  'v 
pursued  Tarvin,  grimly.  "I  see.  My  dear  little 
spitfire,  you  are  at  liberty  to  do  what  you  like. 
Don't  let  me  interfere  with  your  amusements." 

"I  was  wrong.  I  should  have  known  that  noth- 
ing would  make  you  afraid,"  said  she,  eying  him 
thoughtfully  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye;  "and, 
excepting  you,  Tarvin  Sahib,  there  is  no  man  that 
I  fear.  If  you  were  a  king  as  I  a  queen,  we  would 
hold  Hindustan  between  our  two  hands." 

She  clasped  his  locked  fist  as  she  spoke,  and 
Tarvin,  remembering  that  sudden  motion  to  her 
bosom  when  he  had  whistled,  laid  his  own  hand 
quickly  above  hers,  and  held  them  fast. 

"Is  there  nothing,  Tarvin  Sahib,  that  would 
make  you  leave  me  in  peace?  What  is  it  you 
care  for?  You  did  not  come  here  to  keep  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar  alive." 

"How  do  you  know  I  didn't?" 

"You  are  very  wise,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
laugh,  "but  it  is  not  good  to  pretend  to  be  too 
wise.  Shall  I  tell  you  why  you  came?" 

"Well,  why  did  I?    Speak  up." 

"You  came  here,  as  you  came  to  the  temple  of 
Iswara,  to  find  that  which  you  will  never  find, 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  BAST.  279 

unless  "  —  she  leaned  toward  him  —  "I  help  you. 
Was  it  very  cold  in  the  Cow's  Mouth,  Tarvin 
Sahib?" 

Tarvin  drew  back,  frowning,  but  not  betraying 
himself  further. 

"I  was  afraid  that  the  snakes  would  have  killed 
you  there." 

"  Were  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  softly.  "And  I  was  afraid, 
too,  that  you  might  not  have  stepped  swiftly 
enough  for  the  turning  stone  in  the  temple." 

Tarvin  glanced  at  her.     "No?" 

"Yes.  Ah!  I  knew  what  was  in  your  mind, 
even  before  you  spoke  to  the  King  —  when  the 
body-guard  charged." 

"See  here,  young  woman,  do  you  run  a  private 
inquiry  agency?" 

She  laughed.  "There  is  a  song  in  the  palace 
now  about  your  bravery.  But  the  boldest  thing 
was  to  speak  to  the  King  about  the  Naulahka.  He 
told  me  all  you  said.  But  he  —  even  he  did  not 
dream  that  any  feringhi  could  dare  to  covet  it. 
And  I  was  so  good  —  I  did  not  tell  him.  But  I 
knew  men  like  you  are  not  made  for  little  things. 
Tarvin  Sahib,"  she  said,  leaning  close,  releasing 
her  hand  and  laying  it  softly  on  his  shoulder, 
"you  and  I  are  kin  indeed!  For  it  is  more  easy 
to  govern  this  state  —  aye,  and  from  this  state  to 


280  THE  NAULAHKA. 

recapture  all  Hindustan  from  these  white  dogs,  the 
English  —  than  to  do  what  you  have  dreamed  of. 
And  yet  a  stout  heart  makes  all  things  easy.  Was 
it  for  yourself,  Tarvin  Sahib,  that  you  wanted  the 
Naulahka,  or  for  another  —  even  as  I  desire  Gokral 
Seetarun  for  my  son?  We  are  not  little  people. 
It  is  for  another,  is  it  not?" 

"Look  here,"  said  Tarvin,  reverently,  as  he  took 
her  hand  from  his  shoulder  and  held  it  firmly  in 
his  clutch  again,  "  are  there  many  of  you  in  India  ?  " 

"But  one.  I  am  like  yourself  —  alone."  Her 
chin  drooped  against  his  shoulder,  and  she  looked 
up  at  him  out  of  her  eyes  as  dark  as  the  lake. 
The  scarlet  mouth  and  the  quivering  nostrils  were 
so  close  to  his  own  that  the  fragrant  breath  swept 
his  cheek. 

"  Are  you  making  states,  Tarvin  Sahib,  like  me  ? 
No;  surely  it  is  a  woman.  Your  government  is 
decreed  for  you,  and  you  do  what  it  orders.  I 
turned  the  canal  which  the  Government  said  should 
run  through  my  orange-garden,  even  as  I  will 
bend  the  King  to  my  will,  even  as  I  will  kill  the 
boy,  even  as  I  will  myself  rule  in  Gokral  Seetarun 
through  my  child.  But  you,  Tarvin  Sahib — you 
wish  only  a  woman!  Is  it  not  so?  And  she  is 
too  little  to  bear  the  weight  of  the  Luck  of  the 
State.  She  grows  paler  day  by  day."  She  felt 
the  man  quiver,  but  he  said  nothing. 


A  STORY  OF  WBST  AND  EAST.  281 

From  the  tangle  of  scrub  and  brushwood  at  the 
far  end  of  the  lake  broke  forth  a  hoarse  barking 
cough  that  filled  the  hills  with  desolation  as  water 
brims  a  cup.  Tarvin  leaped  to  his  feet.  For  the 
first  time  he  heard  the  angry  complaint  of  the  tiger 
going  home  to  his  lair  after  a  fruitless  night  of 
ranging. 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  the  Queen,  without  stir- 
ring. "It  is  only  the  tiger  of  the  Dungar  Talao. 
I  have  heard  them  howling  many  times  when  I 
was  a  gypsy,  and  even  if  he  came  you  would  shoot 
him.  would  you  not,  as  you  shot  the  ape?" 

She  nestled  close  to  him,  and,  as  he  sank  beside 
her  on  the  stone  again,  his  arm  slipped  uncon- 
sciously about  her  waist. 

The  shadow  of  the  beast  drifted  across  an  open 
space  by  the  lake-shore  as  noiselessly  as  thistle- 
down draws  through  the  air  of  summer,  and  Tar- 
vin's  arm  tightened  in  its  resting-place  —  tightened 
on  a  bossed  girdle  that  struck  cold  on  his  palm 
through  many  folds  of  muslin. 

"So  little  and  so  frail  —  how  could  she  wear 
it?"  resumed  the  Queen. 

She  turned  a  little  in  his  embrace,  and  Tarvin 's 
arm  brushed  against  one,  and  another,  and  then 
another,  strand  of  the  girdle,  studded  like  the  first 
with  irregular  bosses,  till  under  his  elbow  he  felt 
a  great  square  stone. 


282  THE  NAULAHKA. 

He  started,  and  tightened  his  hold  about  her 
waist,  with  paling  lips. 

"But  we  two,"  the  Queen  went  on,  in  a  low 
voice,  regarding  him  dreamily,  "could  make  the 
kingdom  fight  like  the  water-buffaloes  in  spring. 
Would  you  be  my  prime  minister,  Tarvin  Sahib, 
and  advise  me  through  the  curtain?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  could  trust  you," 
said  Tarvin,  briefly. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  I  could  trust  myself," 
responded  the  Queen;  "for  after  a  time  it  might 
be  that  I  should  be  servant  who  have  always  been 
queen.  I  have  come  near  to  casting  my  heart 
under  the  hoofs  of  your  horse  —  not  once,  but  many 
times."  She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
joined  them  there,  gazing  into  his  eyes,  and  draw- 
ing his  head  down  to  hers.  "Is  it  a  little  thing," 
she  cooed,  "if  I  ask  you  to  be  my  king?  In  the 
old  days,  before  the  English  came,  Englishmen  of 
no  birth  stole  the  hearts  of  begums,  and  led  their 
armies.  They  were  kings  in  all  but  the  name. 
We  do  not  know  when  the  old  days  may  return, 
and  we  might  lead  our  armies  together." 

"All  right.  Keep  the  place  open  for  me.  I 
might  come  back  and  apply  for  it  one  of  these 
days  when  I've  worked  a  scheme  or  two  at  home." 

"Then  you  are  going  away  —  you  will  leave  us 
soon?" 


A  STORY   OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  283 

"I'll  leave  you  when  I've  got  what  I  want,  my 
dear,"  he  answered,  pressing  her  closer. 

She  bit  her  lip.  "I  might  have  known,"  she 
said  softly.  "I,  too,  have  never  turned  aside 
from  anything  I  desired.  Well,  and  what  is  it?" 

The  mouth  drooped  a  little  at  the  corners,  as 
the  head  fell  on  his  shoulder.  Glancing  down, 
he  saw  the  ruby-jewelled  jade  handle  of  a  little 
knife  at  her  breast. 

He  disengaged  himself  from  her  arms  with  a 
quick  movement,  and  rose  to  his  feet.  She  was 
very  lovely  as  she  stretched  her  arms  appealingly 
out  to  him  in  the  half  light;  but  he  was  there  for 
other  things. 

Tarvin  looked  at  her  between  the  eyes,  and  her 
glance  fell. 

"I'll  take  what  you  have  around  your  waist, 
please." 

"I  might  have  known  that  the  white  man  thinks 
only  of  money!"  she  cried  scornfully. 

She  unclasped  a  silver  belt  from  her  waist  and 
threw  it  from  her,  clinking,  upon  the  marble. 

Tarvin  did  not  give  it  a  glance. 

"You  know  me  better  than  that,"  he  said  quietly. 
"Come,  hold  up  your  hands.  Your  game  is 
played." 

"I  do  not  understand,"  she  said.  "Shall  I  give 
you  some  rupees?"  she  asked  scornfully.  "Be 
quick,  Juggut  Singh  is  bringing  the  horses." 


284  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Oh,  I'll  be  quick  enough.  Give  me  the  Nau- 
lahka." 

"The  Naulahka?" 

"The  same.  I'm  tired  of  tipsy  bridges,  and 
ungirt  horses,  and  uneasy  arches,  and  dizzy  quick- 
sands. I  want  the  necklace." 

"And  I  may  have  the  boy?" 

"No;   neither  boy  nor  necklace." 

"And  will  you  go  to  Colonel  Nolan  in  the 
morning?" 

"The  morning  is  here  now.  You'd  better  be 
quick." 

"  Will  you  go  to  Colonel  Nolan  ? "  she  repeated, 
rising,  and  facing  him. 

"Yes;   if  you  don't  give  me  the  necklace." 

"And  if  I  do?" 

"No.  Is  it  a  trade?"  It  was  his  question  to 
Mrs.  Mutrie. 

The  Queen  looked  desperately  at  the  day-star 
that  was  beginning  to  pale  in  the  East.  Even  her 
power  over  the  King  could  not  save  her  from  death 
if  the  day  discovered  her  beyond  the  palace  walls. 

The  man  spoke  as  one  who  held  her  life  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand;  and  she  knew  he  was  right. 
If  he  had  proof  he  would  not  scruple  to  bring  it 
before  the  Maharajah;  and  if  the  Maharajah  be- 
lieved —  Sitabhai  could  feel  the  sword  at  her  throat. 
She  would  be  no  founder  of  a  dynasty,  but  a  name- 


A  STORY  OF  WEST   AND  EAST.  285 

less  disappearance  in  the  palace.  Mercifully,  the 
King  had  not  been  in  a  state  to  understand  the 
charges  Tarvin  had  brought  against  her  in  the 
court-yard.  But  she  lay  open  now  to  anything 
this  reckless  and  determined  stranger  might  choose 
to  do  against  her.  At  the  least  he  could  bring 
upon  her  the  formless  suspicion  of  an  Indian  court, 
worse  than  death  to  her  plans,  and  the  removal 
of  Maharaj  Kunwar  beyond  her  power,  through  the 
interposition  of  Colonel  Nolan;  and  at  the  worst  — 
But  she  did  not  pursue  this  train  of  thought. 

She  cursed  the  miserable  weakness  of  liking  for 
him  which  had  prevented  her  from  killing  him  just 
now  as  he  lay  in  her  arms.  She  had  meant  to 
kill  him  from  the  first  moment  of  their  interview; 
she  had  let  herself  toy  too  long  with  the  fascina- 
tion of  being  dominated  by  a  will  stronger  than 
her  own,  but  there  was  still  time. 

"And  if  I  do  not  give  you  the  Naulahka?" 
she  asked. 

"I  guess  you  know  best  about  that." 

As  her  eye  wandered  out  on  the  plain  she  saw 
that  the  stars  no  longer  had  fire  in  them ;  the  black 
water  of  the  reservoir  paled  and  grew  gray,  and 
the  wild  fowl  were  waking  in  the  reeds.  The 
dawn  was  upon  her,  as  merciless  as  the  man 
Juggut  Singh  was  leading  up  the  horses,  motion- 
ing to  her  in  an  agony  of  impatience  and  terror. 


286  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

The  sky  was  against  her;  and  there  was  no  help 
on  earth. 

She  put  her  hands  behind  her.  Tarvin  heard 
the  snap  of  a  clasp,  and  the  Naulahka  lay  about 
her  feet  in  ripples  of  flame. 

Without  looking  at  him  or  the  necklace,  she 
moved  toward  the  horses.  Tarvin  stooped  swiftly 
aud  possessed  himself  of  the  treasure.  Juggut 
Singh  had  released  his  horse.  Tarvin  strode  for- 
ward and  caught  at  the  bridle,  cramming  the 
necklace  into  his  breast-pocket. 

He  bent  to  make  sure  of  his  girth.  The  Queen, 
standing  behind  her  horse,  waited  an  instant  to 
mount. 

"Good  by,  Tarvin  Sahib;  and  remember  the 
gypsy,"  she  said,  flinging  her  arm  out  over  the 
horse's  withers.  "J?eA/" 

A  flicker  of  light  passed  his  eye.  The  jade 
handle  of  the  Queen's  knife  quivered  in  the  saddle- 
flap  half  an  inch  above  his  right  shoulder.  His 
horse  plunged  forward  at  the  Queen's  stallion, 
with  a  snort  of  pain. 

"  Kill  him,  Juggut  Singh  I "  gasped  the  Queen, 
pointing  to  Tarvin,  as  the  eunuch  scrambled  into 
his  saddle.  "Kill  him  I" 

Tarvin  caught  her  tender  wrist  in  his  fast  grip. 
"  Easy  there,  girl !  Easy !  "  She  returned  his  gaze, 
baffled.  "Let  me  put  you  up,"  he  said. 


A  STORY   OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  287 

He  put  his  arms  about  her  and  swung  her  into 
the  saddle. 

"Now  give  us  a  kiss,"  he  said,  as  she  looked 
down  at  him. 

She  stooped.  "No,  you  don't!  Give  me  your 
hands."  He  prisoned  both  wrists,  and  kissed  her 
full  upon  the  mouth.  Then  he  smote  the  horse 
resoundingly  upon  the  flank,  and  the  animal  blun- 
dered down  the  path  and  leaped  out  into  the  plain. 

He  watched  the  Queen  and  Juggut  Singh  dis- 
appear in  a  cloud  of  dust  and  flying  stones,  and 
turned  with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  to  the  lake. 
Drawing  the  Naulahka  from  its  resting-place,  and 
laying  it  fondly  out  upon  his  hands,  he  fed  his 
eyes  upon  it. 

The  stones  kindled  with  the  glow  of  the  dawn, 
and  mocked  the  shifting  colors  of  the  hill.  The 
shining  ropes  of  gems  put  to  shame  the  red  glare 
that  shot  up  from  behind  the  reeds,  as  they  had 
dulled  the  glare  of  the  torches  on  the  night  of  the 
little  Prince's  wedding.  The  tender  green  of  the 
reeds  themselves,  the  intense  blue  of  the  lake, 
the  beryl  of  the  flashing  kingfishers,  and  the 
blinding  ripples  spreading  under  the  first  rays  of 
the  sun,  as  a  bevy  of  coots  flapped  the  water  from 
their  wings  —  the  necklace  abashed  them  all.  Only 
the  black  diamond  took  no  joy  from  the  joy  of  the 
morning,  but  lay  among  its  glorious  fellows  as 


288  THE  NAULAHKA. 

sombre  and  red-hearted  as  the  troublous  night  out 
of  which  Tarvin  had  snatched  it. 

Tarvin  ran  the  stones  through  his  hands  one  by 
one,  and  there  were  forty-five  of  them  —  each  stone 
perfect  and  flawless  of  its  kind;  nipped,  lest  any 
of  its  beauty  should  be  hidden,  by  a  tiny  gold 
clasp,  each  stone  swinging  all  but  free  from  the 
strand  of  soft  gold  on  which  it  was  strung,  and 
each  stone  worth  a  king's  ransom  or  a  queen's  good 
name. 

It  was  a  good  moment  for  Tarvin.  His  life 
gathered  into  it.  Topaz  was  safe  I 

The  wild  duck  were  stringing  to  and  fro  across 
the  lake,  and  the  cranes  called  to  one  another, 
stalking  through  reeds  almost  as  tall  as  their 
scarlet  heads.  From  some  temple  hidden  among 
the  hills  a  lone  priest  chanted  sonorously  as  he 
made  the  morning  sacrifice  to  hi  god,  and  from 
the  city  in  the  plain  cam  the  boom  oi  the  first 
ward-drums,  telling  that  the  gates  were  open  and 
the  day  was  born. 

Tarvin  lifted  his  head  from  the  necklace.  The 
jade-handled  knife  was  lying  at  his  feet.  He 
picked  up  the  delicate  weapon  and  threw  it  into 
the  lake. 

"And  now  for  Kate,"  he  said. 


A  STOBY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  289 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Now  we  are  come  to  our  Kingdom, 

And  the  State  is  thus  and  thus. 
Our  legions  wait  at  the  palace  gate  — 

Little  it  profits  us. 

Now  we  are  come  to  our  Kingdom. 

Now  we  are  come  to  our  Kingdom ; 

The  crown  is  ours  to  take  — 
With  a  naked  sword  at  the  council-board, 

And  under  the  throne  the  snake. 

Now  we  are  come  to  our  Kingdom. 

Now  we  are  come  to  our  Kingdom, 

But  my  love's  eyelids  fall  — 
All  that  I  wrou  ht  for,  all  that  I  fought  for, 
Delight  her  nothing  at  all. 
My  crown  is  withered  leaves, 
For  she  sits  in  the  dust  and  grieves. 

Now  we  are  come  to  our  Kingdom.* 

King  Anthony. 

THE  palace  on  its  red  rook  seemed  to  be  still 
asleep  as  he  cantered  across  the  empty  plain.  A 
man  on  a  camel  rode  out  of  one  of  the  city  gates 
at  right  angles  to  his  course,  and  Tarvin  noted 
with  interest  how  swiftly  a  long-legged  camel  of 
the  desert  can  move.  Familiar  as  he  had  now 
become  with  the  ostrich-necked  beasts,  he  could 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  MacmllUn  k  Co.  U 


290  THE  NAULAHKA. 

not  help  associating  them  with  Barnum's  Circus 
and  boyhood  memories.  The  man  drew  near  and 
crossed  in  front  of  him.  Then,  in  the  stillness  of 
the  morning,  Tarvin  heard  the  dry  click  of  a  voice 
he  understood.  It  was  the  sound  made  by  bring- 
ing up  the  cartridge  of  a  repeating  rifle.  Mechan- 
ically he  slipped  from  the  saddle,  and  was  on  the 
other  side  of  the  horse  as  the  rifle  spoke,  and  a 
puff  of  blue  smoke  drifted  up  and  hung  motionless 
above  the  camel. 

"I  might  have  known  she'd  get  in  her  work 
early,"  he  muttered,  peering  over  his  horse's 
withers.  "I  can't  drop  him  at  this  distance  with 
a  revolver.  What's  the  fool  waiting  for?" 

Then  he  perceived  that,  with  characteristic  native 
inaptitude,  the  man  had  contrived  to  jam  his  lever, 
and  was  beating  it  furiously  on  the  forepart  of 
the  saddle.  Tarvin  remounted  hastily,  and  gal- 
loped up,  revolver  in  hand,  to  cover  the  blanched 
visage  of  Juggut  Singh. 

"  You!  Why,  Juggut,  old  man,  this  isn't  kind 
of  you." 

"It  was  an  order,"  said  Juggut,  quivering  with 
apprehension.  "It  was  no  fault  of  mine.  I  —  I 
do  not  understand  these  things." 

"I  should  smile.  Let  me  show  you."  He  took 
the  rifle  from  the  trembling  hand.  "  The  cartridge 
is  jammed,  my  friend;  it  don't  shoot  as  well  that 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  291 

way.  It  only  needs  a  little  knack  —  so.  You 
ought  to  learn  it,  Juggut."  He  jerked  the  empty 
shell  over  his  shoulder. 

"What  will  you  do  to  me?"  cried  the  eunuch. 
"She  would  have  killed  me  if  I  had  not  come." 

"Don't  you  believe  it,  Juggut.  She's  a  Jumbo 
at  theory,  but  weak  in  practice.  Go  on  ahead, 
please.'* 

They  started  back  toward  the  city,  Juggut  lead- 
ing the  way  on  his  camel,  and  looking  back  appre- 
hensively every  minute.  Tarvin  smiled  at  him 
dryly  but  reassuringly,  balancing  on  his  hip  the 
captured  rifle.  He  observed  that  it  was  a  very 
good  rifle  if  properly  used. 

At  the  entrance  to  Sitabhai's  wing  of  the  palace 
Juggut  Singh  dismounted  and  slunk  into  the  court- 
yard, the  livid  image  of  fear  and  shame.  Tarvin 
clattered  after  him,  and  as  the  eunuch  was  about 
to  disappear  through  a  door,  called  him  back. 

"You  have  forgotten  your  gun,  Juggut,"  he 
said.  "Don't  be  afraid  of  it."  Juggut  was  put- 
ting up  a  doubtful  hand  to  take  it  from  him. 
"It  won't  hurt  anybody  this  trip.  Take  yourself 
back  to  the  lady,  and  tell  her  you  are  returned  with 
thanks." 

No  sound  came  to  his  ear  from  behind  the  green 
shutters  as  he  rode  away  leaving  Juggut  staring 
after  him.  Nothing  fell  upon  him  from  out  of 


292  THE  NAULAHKA. 

the  arch,  and  the  apes  were  tied  securely.  Sita« 
bhai's  next  move  was  evidently  yet  to  be  played 

His  own  next  move  he  had  already  considered. 
It  was  a  case  for  bolting. 

He  rode  to  the  mosque  outside  the  city,  routed 
out  his  old  friend  in  dove-colored  satin,  and  made 
him  send  this  message : 

"  MBS.  MUTRIE,  DENVER.  —  Necklace  is  yours. 
Get  throat  ready,  and  lay  that  track  into  Topaz. 

"TARVIN." 

Then  he  turned  his  horse's  head  toward  Kate. 
He  buttoned  his  coat  tightly  across  his  chest,  and 
patted  the  resting-place  of  the  Naulahka  fondly,  as 
he  strode  up  the  path  to  the  missionary's  veranda, 
when  he  had  tethered  Fibby  outside.  His  high  good 
humor  with  himself  and  the  world  spoke  through  his 
eyes  as  he  greeted  Mrs.  Estes  at  the  door. 

"You  have  been  hearing  something  pleasant,"  she 
said.  "Won't  you  come  in?" 

"Well,  either  the  pleasantest,  or  next  to  the 
pleasantest,  I'm  not  sure  which,"  he  answered, 
with  a  smile,  as  he  followed  her  into  the  familiar 
sitting-room.  "I'd  like  to  tell  you  all  about  it, 
Mrs.  Estes.  I  feel  almightily  like  telling  somebody. 
But  it  isn't  a  healthy  story  for  this  neighborhood." 
He  glanced  about  him.  "I'd  hire  the  town-crier 
and  a  few  musical  instruments,  and  advertise  it,  if 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  293 

I  had  my  way;  and  we'd  all  have  a  little  Fourth  of 
July  celebration  and  a  bonfire,  and  I'd  read  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  over  the  natives  with 
a  relish.  But  it  won't  do.  There  is  a  story  I'd 
like  to  tell  you,  though,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden 
thought.  "You  know  why  I  come  here  so  much, 
don't  you,  Mrs.  Estes  —  I  mean  outside  of  your 
kindness  to  me,  and  my  liking  you  all  so  much, 
and  our  always  having  such  good  times  together? 
You  know,  don't  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Estes  smiled.     "I  suppose  I  do,"  she  said. 

"Well,  that's  right.  That's  right.  I  thought 
you  did.  Then  I  hope  you're  my  friend." 

"  If  you  mean  that  I  wish  you  well,  I  do.  But 
you  can  understand  that  I  feel  responsible  for  Miss 
Sheriff.  I  have  sometimes  thought  I  ought  to  let 
her  mother  know." 

"  Oh,  her  mother  knows.  She's  full  of  it.  You 
might  say  she  liked  it.  The  trouble  isn't  there, 
you  know,  Mrs.  Estes." 

"No.  She's  a  singular  girl;  very  strong,  very 
sweet.  I've  grown  to  love  her  dearly.  She  has 
wonderful  courage.  But  I  should  like  it  better  for 
her  if  she  would  give  it  up,  and  all  that  goes  with 
it.  She  would  be  better  married,"  she  said  medi- 
tatively. 

Tarvin  gazed  at  her  admiringly.  "How  wise 
you  are,  Mrs.  Estes  I  How  wise  you  are  I "  he 


294  THE  NAULAHKA. 

murmured.  "If  I've  told  her  that  once  I've  told 
her  a  dozen  times.  Don't  you  think,  also,  that  it 
would  be  better  if  she  were  married  at  once  —  right 
away,  without  too  much  loss  of  time?" 

His  companion  looked  at  him  to  see  if  he  was 
in  earnest.  Tarvin  was  sometimes  a  little  per- 
plexing to  her.  "I  think  if  you  are  clever  you 
will  leave  it  to  the  course  of  events,"  she  replied, 
after  a  moment.  "  I  have  watched  her  work  here, 
hoping  that  she  might  succeed  where  every  one 
else  has  failed.  But  I  know  in  my  heart  that  she 
won't.  There's  too  much  against  her.  She's 
working  against  thousands  of  years  of  traditions, 
and  training,  and  habits  of  life.  Sooner  or  later 
they  are  certain  to  defeat  her;  and  then,  whatever 
her  courage,  she  must  give  in.  I've  thought  some- 
times lately  that  she  might  have  trouble  very  soon. 
There's  a  good  deal  of  dissatisfaction  at  the  hos- 
pital. Lucien  hears  some  stories  that  make  me 
anxious." 

"Anxious!  I  should  say  so.  That's  the  worst 
of  it.  It  isn't  only  that  she  won't  come  to  me, 
Mrs.  Estes, — that  you  can  understand, — but  she 
is  running  her  head  meanwhile  into  all  sorts  of 
impossible  dangers.  I  haven't  time  to  wait  until 
she  sees  that  point.  I  haven't  time  to  wait  until 
she  sees  any  point  at  all  but  that  this  present 
moment,  now  and  here,  would  be  a  good  moment 


A   STORY   OF   WEST  AND   EAST.  295 

in  which  to  marry  Nicholas  Tarvin.  I've  got  to 
get  out  of  Rhatore.  That's  the  long  and  the  short 
of  it,  Mrs.  Estes.  Don't  ask  me  why.  It's  neces- 
sary. And  I  must  take  Kate  with  me.  Help  me 
if  you  love  her." 

To  this  appeal  Mrs.  Estes  made  the  handsomest 
response  in  her  power,  by  saying  that  she  would 
go  up  and  tell  her  that  he  wished  to  see  her.  This 
seemed  to  take  some  time;  and  Tarvin  waited 
patiently,  with  a  smile  on  his  lips.  He  did  not 
doubt  that  Kate  would  yield.  In  the  glow  of 
another  success  it  was  not  possible  to  him  to  sup- 
pose that  she  would  not  come  around  now.  Had 
he  not  the  Naulahka?  She  went  with  it;  she  was 
indissolubly  connected  with  it.  Yet  he  was  will- 
ing to  impress  into  his  service  all  the  help  he  could 
get,  and  he  was  glad  to  believe  that  Mrs.  Estes 
was  talking  to  her. 

It  was  an  added  prophecy  of  success  when  he 
found  from  a  copy  of  a  recent  issue  of  the  "  Topaz 
Telegram,"  which  he  picked  up  while  he  waited, 
that  the  "  Lingering  Lode  "  had  justified  his  expec- 
tations. The  people  he  had  left  in  charge  had 
struck  a  true  fissure  vein,  and  were  taking  out 
f500  a  week.  He  crushed  the  paper  into  his 
pocket,  restraining  an  inclination  to  dance;  it  was 
perhaps  safest,  on  reflection,  to  postpone  that  exer- 
cise until  he  had  seen  Kate.  The  little  congrat- 


296  THE  NAULAHKA. 

ulatory  whistle  that  he  struck  up  instead,  he  had 
to  sober  a  moment  later  into  a  smile  as  Kate 
opened  the  door  and  came  in  to  him.  There  could 
be  no  two  ways  about  it  with  her  now.  His  smile, 
do  what  he  would,  almost  said  as  much. 

A  single  glance  at  her  face  showed  him,  how- 
ever, that  the  affair  struck  her  less  simply.  He 
forgave  her;  she  could  not  know  the  source  of  his 
inner  certitude.  He  even  took  time  to  like  the 
gray  house-dress,  trimmed  with  black  velvet,  that 
she  was  wearing  in  place  of  the  white  which  had 
become  habitual  to  her. 

"I'm  glad  you've  dropped  white  for  a  moment," 
he  said,  as  he  rose  to  shake  hands  with  her.  "  It's 
a  sign.  It  represents  a  general  abandonment  and 
desertion  of  this  blessed  country;  and  that's  just 
the  mood  I  want  to  find  you  in.  I  want  you  to 
drop  it,  chuck  it,  throw  it  up."  He  held  her 
brown  little  hand  in  the  swarthy  fist  he  pushed 
out  from  his  own  white  sleeve,  and  looked  down 
into  her  eyes  attentively. 

"What?" 

"India  —  the  whole  business.  I  want  you  to 
come  with  me."  He  spoke  gently. 

She  looked  up,  and  he  saw  in  the  quivering 
lines  about  her  mouth  signs  of  the  contest  on  this 
theme  that  she  had  passed  through  before  coming 
down  to  him. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  29T 

"You  are  going?  I'm  so  glad."  She  hesitated 
a  moment.  "You  know  why?"  she  added,  with 
what  he  saw  was  an  intention  of  kindness. 

Tarvin  laughed  as  he  seated  himself.  "I  like 
that.  Yes;  I'm  going,"  he  said.  "But  I'm  not 
going  alone.  You're  in  the  plan,"  he  assured  her, 
with  a  nod. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No;  don't  say  that,  Kate.  You  mustn't.  ^  It's 
serious  this  time." 

"  Hasn't  it  always  been  ? "  she  sank  into  a  chair. 
"It's  always  been  serious  enough  for  me  —  that  I 
couldn't  do  what  you  wish,  I  mean.  Not  doing  it 
—  that  is  doing,  something  else;  the  one  thing  I 
want  to  do  —  is  the  most  serious  thing  in  the  world 
to  me.  Nothing  has  happened  to  change  me,  Nick. 
I  would  tell  you  in  a  moment  if  it  had.  How  is 
it  different  for  either  of  us?" 

"Lots  of  ways.  But  that  I've  got  to  leave 
Rhatore  for  a  sample.  You  don't  think  I'd  leave 
you  behind,  I  hope." 

She  studied  the  hands  she  had  folded  in  her  lap 
for  a  moment.  Then  she  looked  up  and  faced  him 
with  her  open  gaze. 

"Nick,"  she  said,  "let  me  try  to  explain  as 
clearly  as  I  can  how  all  this  seems  to  me.  You 
can  correct  me  if  I'm  wrong." 

"Oh,  you're  sure  to  be  wrong!"  he  cried;  but 
he  leaned  forward* 


298  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Well,  let  me  try.  You  ask  me  to  marry 
you?" 

"I  do,"  answered  Tarvin,  solemnly.  "Give  me 
a  chance  of  saying  that  before  a  clergyman,  and 
you'll  see." 

''I  am  grateful,  Nick.  It's  a  gift  —  the  highest, 
the  best^  and  I'm  grateful.  But  what  is  it  you 
really  want?  Shall  you  mind  my  asking  that, 
Nick?  You  want  me  to  round  out  your  life;  you 
want  me  to  complete  your  other  ambitions.  Isn't 
that  so?  Tell  me  honestly,  Nick;  isn't  that  so?" 

"  No !  "  roared  Tarvin. 

"Ah,  but  it  is!  Marriage  is  that  way.  It  is 
right.  Marriage  means  that  —  to  be  absorbed  into 
another's  life :  to  live  your  own,  not  as  your  own, 
but  as  another's.  It  is  a  good  life.  It's  a  woman's 
life.  I  can  like  it;  I  can  'believe  in  it.  But  I 
can't  see  myself  in  it.  A  woman  gives  the  whole 
of  herself  in  marriage  —  in  all  happy  marriages.  I 
haven't  the  whole  of  myself  to  give.  It  belongs 
to  something  else.  And  I  couldn't  offer  you  a 
part;  it  is  all  the  best  men  give  to  women,  but 
from  a  woman  it  would  do  no  man  any  good." 

"You  mean  that  you  have  the  choice  between 
giving  up  your  work  and  giving  up  me,  and  that 
.  the  last  is  easiest." 

"I  don't  say  that;  but  suppose  I  did,  would  it 
be  so  strange  ?  Be  honest,  Nick.  Suppose  I  asked 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  299 

you  to  give  up  the  centre  and  meaning  of  your 
life?  Suppose  I  asked  you  to  give  up  your 
work?  And  suppose  I  offered  in  exchange  —  mar- 
riage !  No,  no !  "  She  shook  her  head.  "  Marriage 
is  good;  but  what  man  would  pay  that  price  for 
it?" 

"My  dearest  girl,  isn't  that  just  the  opportunity 
of  women?" 

"  The  opportunity  of  the  happy  women  —  yes ;  but 
it  isn't  given  to  every  one  to  see  marriage  like  that. 
Even  for  women  there  is  more  than  one  kind  of 
devotion." 

"Oh,  look  here,  Kate!  A  man  isn't  an  orphan 
asylum  or  a  home  for  the  friendless.  You  take 
him  too  seriously.  You  talk  as  if  you  had  to  make 
him  your  leading  charity,  and  give  up  everything 
to  the  business.  Of  course  you  have  to  pretend 
something  of  the  kind  at  the  start,  but  in  practice 
you  only  have  to  eat  a  few  dinners,  attend  a  semi- 
annual board-meeting,  and  a  strawberry-festival  or 
two  to  keep  the  thing  going.  It's  just  a  general 
agreement  to  drink  your  coffee  with  a  man  in  the 
morning,  and  be  somewhere  around,  not  too  far  from 
the  fire,  in  not  too  ugly  a  dress,  when  he  comes 
home  in  the  evening.  Come!  It's  an  easy  con- 
tract. Try  me,  Kate,  and  you'll  see  how  simple 
I'll  make  it  for  you.  I  know  about  the  other 
things.  I  understand  well  enough  that  you  would 


300  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

never  care  for  a  life  which  didn't  allow  you  to 
make  a  lot  of  people  happy  besides  your  husband. 
I  recognize  that.  I  begin  with  it.  And  I  say 
that's  just  what  I  want.  You  have  a  talent  for 
making  folks  happy.  Well,  I  secure  you  on  a 
special  agreement  to  make  me  happy,  and  after 
you've  attended  to  that,  I  want  you  to  sail  in  and 
make  the  whole  world  bloom  with  your  kindness. 
And  you'll  do  it,  too.  Confound  it,  Kate,  we'll 
do  it!  No  one  knows  how  good  two  people  could 
be  if  they  formed  a  syndicate  and  made  a  business 
of  it.  It  hasn't  been  tried.  Try  it  with  me!  O, 
Kate,  I  love  you,  I  need  you,  and  if  you'll  let 
me,  I'll  make  a  life  for  you!" 

"  I  know,  Nick,  you  would  be  kind.  You  would 
do  all  that  a  man  can  do.  But  it  isn't  the  man 
who  makes  marriages  happy  or  possible;  it's  the 
woman,  and  it  must  be.  I  should  either  do  my 
part  and  shirk  the  other,  and  then  I  should  be 
miserable;  or  I  should  shirk  you,  and  be  more 
miserable.  Either  way,  such  happiness  is  not  for 
me." 

Tarvin's  hand  found  the  Naulahka  within  his 
breast,  and  clutched  it  tightly.  Strength  seemed 
to  go  out  of  it  into  him  —  strength  to  restrain 
himself  from  losing  all  by  a  dozen  savage  words. 

"Kate,  my  girl,"  he  said  quietly,  "we  haven't 
time  to  conjure  dangers.  We  have  to  face  a  real 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  301 

one.  You  are  not  safe  here.  I  can't  leave  you  in 
this  place,  and  I've  got  to  go.  That  is  why  I  ask 
you  to  marry  me  at  once." 

"But  I  fear  nothing.      Who  would  harm   me?" 

"Sitabhai,"  he  answered  grimly.  "But  what 
difference  does  it  make?  I  tell  you,  you  are  not 
safe.  Be  sure  that  I  know." 

"And  you?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  count. 

"The  truth,  Nick!"  she  demanded. 

"Well,  I  always  said  that  there  was  nothing 
like  the  climate  of  Topaz." 

"You  mean  you  are  in  danger  —  great  danger, 
perhaps." 

"Sitabhai  isn't  going  round  hunting  for  ways 
to  save  my  precious  life,  that's  a  fact."  He  smiled 
at  her. 

"Then  you  must  go  away  at  once;  you  must 
not  lose  an  hour.  O,  Nick,  you  won't  wait!" 

"  That's  what  I  say.  I  can  do  without  Rhatore ; 
but  I  can't  do  without  you.  You  must  come." 

"Do  you  mean  that  if  I  don't  you  will  stay?" 
she  asked  desperately. 

"No;  that  would  be  a  threat.  I  mean  I'll  wait 
for  you."  His  eyes  laughed  at  her. 

"Nick,  is  this  because  of  what  I  asked  you  to 
do?"  she  demanded  suddenly. 

"You  didn't  ask  me,"  he  defended. 


802  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Then  it  is,  and  I  am  much  to  blame." 

"What,  because  I  spoke  to  the  King?  My  deal 
girl,  that  isn't  more  than  the  introductory  walk- 
around  of  this  circus.  Don't  run  away  with  any 
question  of  responsibility.  The  only  thing  you  are 
responsible  for  at  this  moment  is  to  run  with  me 
—  flee,  vamose,  get  out.  Your  life  isn't  worth  an 
hour's  purchase  here.  I'm  convinced  of  that.  And 
mine  isn't  worth  a  minute's." 

"You  see  what  a  situation  you  put  me  in,"  she 
said  accusingly. 

"I  don't  put  you  in  iti  but  I  offer  you  a  simple 
solution." 

"Yourself!" 

"Well,  yes;  I  said  it  was  simple.  I  don't 
claim  it's  brilliant.  Almost  any  one  could  do  more 
for  you,  and  there  are  millions  of  better  men;  but 
there  isn't  one  who  could  love  you  better.  O, 
Kate,  Kate ! "  he  cried,  rising,  "  trust  yourself  to 
my  love,  and  I'll  back  myself  against  the  world  to 
make  you  happy." 

"No,  no!"  she  exclaimed  eagerly;  "you  must 
go  away." 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  can't  leave  you.  Ask 
that  of  some  one  else.  Do  you  suppose  a  man 
who  loves  you  can  abandon  you  in  this  desert 
wilderness  to  take  your  chances?  Do  you  suppose 
any  man  could  do  that?  Kate,  my  darling,  come 


A  STORY  OP   WEST  AND  EAST.  303 

with  me.  You  torment  me,  you  kill  me,  by  forc- 
ing me  to  allow  you  a  single  moment  out  of  my 
sight.  I  tell  you,  you  are  in  imminent,  deadly 
peril.  You  won't  stay,  knowing  that.  Surely  you 
won't  sacrifice  your  life  for  these  creatures." 

"  Yes ! "  she  cried,  rising,  with  the  uplifted  look 
on  her  face  —  "  yes !  If  it  is  good  to  live  for  them, 
it  is  good  to  die  for  them.  I  do  not  believe  my  life 
is  necessary;  but  if  it  is  necessary,  that  too!" 

Tarvin  gazed  at  her,  baffled,  disheartened,  at  a 
loss.  "And  you  won't  come?" 

"I  can't.     Good  by,  Nick.     It's  the  end." 

He  took  her  hand.  "Good  afternoon,"  he  re- 
sponded. "It's  end  enough  for  to-day." 

She  pursued  him  anxiously  with  her  eye  as  he 
turned  away;  suddenly  she  started  after  him. 
"But  you  will  go?" 

"Go!  No!  No!"  he  shouted.  "I'll  stay  now  if 
1  have  to  organize  a  standing  army,  declare  myself 
king,  and  hold  the  rest-house  as  the  seat  of  gov- 
ernment. Go  !  " 

She  put  forth  a  detaining,  despairing  hand,  but 
he  was  gone. 

Kate  returned  to  the  little  Maharaj  Kunwar, 
who  had  been  allowed  to  lighten  his  convalescence 
by  bringing  down  from  the  palace  a  number  of  his 
toys  and  pets.  She  sat  down  by  the  side  of  the 
bed,  and  cried  for  a  long  time  silently. 


304  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"What  is  it,  Miss  Kate?"  asked  the  Prince, 
after  he  had  watched  her  for  some  minutes,  won- 
dering. "Indeed,  I  am  quite  well  now,  so  there 
is  nothing  to  cry  for.  When  I  go  back  to  the 
palace  I  will  tell  my  father  all  that  you  have  done 
for  me,  and  he  will  give  you  a  village.  We  Raj- 
puts do  not  forget." 

"It's  not  that,  Lalji,"  she  said,  stooping  over 
him,  drying  her  tear-stained  eyes. 

"  Then  my  father  will  give  you  two  villages.  No 
one  must  cry  when  I  am  getting  well,  for  I  am 
a  king's  son.  Where  is  Moti?  I  want  him  to 
sit  upon  a  chair." 

Kate  rose  obediently,  and  began  to  call  for  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar's  latest  pet  —  a  little  gray  mon- 
key, with  a  gold  collar,  who  wandered  at  liberty 
through  the  house  and  garden,  and  at  night  did 
his  best  to  win  a  place  for  himself  by  the  young 
Prince's  side.  He  answered  the  call  from  the 
boughs  of  a  tree  in  the  garden,  where  he  was 
arguing  with  the  wild  parrots,  and  entered  the 
room,  crooning  softly  in  the  monkey  tongue. 

"Come  here,  little  Hanuman,"  said  the  Prince, 
raising  one  hand.  The  monkey  bounded  to  his 
side.  "I  have  heard  of  a  king,"  said  the  Prince, 
playing  with  his  golden  collar,  "who  spent  three 
lacs  in  marrying  two  monkeys.  Moti,  wouldst 
thou  like  a  wife  ?  No,  no ;  a  gold  collar  is  enough 


A    STOEY   OF  WEST   AND  BAST.  305 

for  thee.  We  will  spend  our  three  lacs  in  marry- 
ing Miss  Kate  to  Tarvin  Sahib,  when  we  get  well, 
and  thou  shalt  dance  at  the  wedding."  He  was 
speaking  in  the  vernacular,  but  Kate  understood 
too  well  the  coupling  of  her  name  with  Tarvin's. 

"Don't,  Lalji,  don't!" 

"Why  not,   Kate?    Why,   even  I  am  married." 

"Yes,  yes.  But  it  is  different.  Kate  would 
rather  you  didn't,  Lalji." 

"Very  well,"  answered  the  Maharaj,  with  a 
pout.  "Now  I  am  only  a  little  child.  When  I 
am  well  I  will  be  a  king  again,  and  no  one  can 
refuse  my  gifts.  Listen.  Those  are  my  father's 
trumpets.  He  is  coming  to  see  me." 

A  bugle  call  sounded  in  the  distance.  There 
was  a  clattering  of  horses'  feet,  and  a  little  later 
the  Maharajah's  carriage  and  escort  thundered  up 
to  the  door  of  the  missionary's  house.  Kate  looked 
anxiously  to  see  if  the  noise  irritated  her  young 
charge;  but  his  eyes  brightened,  his  nostrils  quiv- 
ered, and  he  whispered,  as  his  hand  tightened  on 
the  hilt  of  the  sword  always  by  his  side: 

"That  is  very  good  I  My  father  has  brought  all 
his  sowars." 

Before  Kate  could  rise,  Mr.  Estes  had  ushered 
the  Maharajah  into  the  room,  which  was  dwarfed 
by  his  bulk  and  by  the  bravery  of  his  presence. 
He  had  been  assisting  at  a  review  of  his  body- 


306  THE  NAULAHKA. 

guard,  and  came  therefore  in  his  full  uniform  as 
commander-in-chief  of  the  army  of  the  state,  which 
was  no  mean  affair.  The  Maharaj  Kunwar  ran  his 
eyes  delightedly  up  and  down  the  august  figure  of 
his  father,  beginning  with  the  polished  gold-spurred 
jack-boots,  and  ascending  to  the  snow-white  doe- 
skin breeches,  the  tunic  blazing  with  gold,  and 
the  diamonds  of  the  Order  of  the  Star  of  India, 
ending  with  the  saffron  turban  and  its  nodding 
emerald  aigret.  The  King  drew  off  his  gauntlets, 
and  shook  hands  cordially  with  Kate.  After  an 
orgy  it  was  noticeable  that  his  Highness  became 
more  civilized. 

"And  is  the  child  well?"  he  asked.  "They  told 
me  that  it  was  a  little  fever,  and  I,  too,  have 
had  some  fever." 

"The  Prince's  trouble  was  much  worse  than  that, 
I  am  afraid,  Maharajah  Sahib,"  said  Kate. 

"Ah,  little  one,"  said  the  King,  bending  over 
his  son  very  tenderly,  and  speaking  in  the  vernac- 
ular, "this  is  the  fault  of  eating  too  much." 

"Nay,  father,  I  did  not  eat,  and  I  am  quite 
well." 

Kate  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bed  stroking  the 
boy's  hair. 

"How  many  troops  paraded  this  morning?" 

"Both  squadrons,  my  General,"  answered  the 
father,  his  eye  lighting  with  pride.  "Thou  art  all 
a  Rajput,  my  son." 


A  STORY  OF  WEST?   AND  EAST.  307 

"And  my  escort  —  where  were  they?" 

"With  Pertab  Singh's  troop.  They  led  the 
charge  at  the  end  of  the  fight." 

"By  the  Sacred  Horse,"  said  the  Maharaj  Kun- 
war,  "  they  shall  lead  in  true  fight  one  day.  Shall 
they  not,  my  father  ?  Thou  on  the  right  flank,  and 
I  on  the  left." 

"  Even  so.  But  to  do  these  things  a  prince  must 
not  be  ill,  and  he  must  learn  many  things." 

"I  know,"  returned  the  Prince,  reflectively. 
"My  father,  I  have  lain  here  some  nights,  think- 
ing. Am  I  a  little  child?"  He  looked  at  Kate 
a  minute,  and  whispered:  "I  would  speak  to  my 
father.  Let  no  one  come  in." 

Kate  left  the  room  quickly,  with  a  backward 
smile  at  the  boy,  and  the  King  seated  himself  by 
the  bed. 

"No;  I  am  not  a  little  child,"  said  the  Prince. 
"In  five  years  I  shall  be  a  man,  and  many  men 
will  obey  me.  But  how  shall  I  know  the  right  or 
the  wrong  in  giving  an  order?" 

"It  is  necessary  to  learn  many  things,"  repeated 
the  Maharajah,  vaguely. 

"Yes;  I  have  thought  of  that  lying  here  in  the 
dark,"  said  the  Prince.  "And  it  is  in  my  mind 
that  these  things  are  not  all  learned  within  the 
walls  of  the  palace,  or  from  women.  My  father, 
let  me  go  away  to  learn  how  to  be  a  prince!" 


308  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"But  whither  wouldst  thou  go?  Surely  my 
kingdom  is  thy  home,  beloved." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  returned  the  boy,  "And  I 
will  come  back  again,  but  do  not  let  me  be  a 
laughing-stock  to  the  other  princes.  At  the  wed- 
ding the  Rawut  of  Bunnaul  mocked  me  because 
my  school-books  were  not  so  many  as  his.  And 
Tie  is  only  the  son  of  an  ennobled  lord.  He  is 
without  ancestry.  But  he  has  been  up  and  down 
Rajputana  as  far  as  Delhi  and  Agra,  ay,  and  Abu ; 
and  he  is  in  the  upper  class  of  the  Princes'  School 
at  Ajmir.  Father,  all  the  sons  of  the  kings  go 
there.  They  do  not  play  with  the  women;  they 
ride  with  men.  And  the  air  and  the  water  are 
good  at  Ajmir.  And  I  should  like  to  go." 

The  face  of  the  Maharajah  grew  troubled,  for 
the  boy  was  very  dear  to  him. 

"But  an  evil  might  befall  thee,  Lalji.  Think 
again." 

"I  have  thought,"  responded  the  Prince.  "What 
evil  can  come  to  me  under  the  charge  of  the  Eng- 
lishman there?  The  Rawut  of  Bunnaul  told  me 
that  I  should  have  my  own  rooms,  my  own  ser- 
vants, and  my  own  stables,  like  the  other  princes 
—  and  that  I  should  be  much  considered  there." 

"Yes,"  said  the  King,  soothingly.  "We  be  chil- 
dren of  the  sun,  thou  and  I,  my  Prince." 

"Then   it  concerns  me  to  be  as  learned  and  as 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND   EAST.  309 

strong  and  as  valiant  as  the  best  of  my  race. 
Father,  I  am  sick  of  running  about  the  rooms  of 
the  women,  of  listening  to  my  mother,  and  to  the 
singing  of  the  dance-girls;  and  they  are  always 
pressing  their  kisses  on  me.  Let  me  go  to  Ajmir. 
Let  me  go  to  the  Princes'  School.  And  in  a  year, 
even  in  a  year,  —  so  says  the  Rawut  of  Bunnaul, 
—  I  shall  be  fit  to  lead  my  escort  as  a  king  should 
lead  them.  Is  it  a  promise,  my  father?" 

"When  thou  art  well,"  answered  the  Maharajah, 
"we  will  speak  of  it  again,  not  as  a  father  to  a 
child,  but  as  a  man  to  a  man." 

The  Maharaj  Kunwar's  eyes  grew  bright  with 
pleasure.  "That  is  good,"  he  said — "as  a  man  to 
a  man." 

The  Maharajah  fondled  him  in  his  arms  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  told  him  the  small  news  of  the 
palace  —  such  things  as  would  interest  a  little  boy. 
Then  he  said,  laughing,  "Have  I  your  leave  to 
go?" 

"O  my  father!"  The  Prince  buried  his  head 
in  his  father's  beard,  and  threw  his  arms  around 
him.  The  Maharajah  disengaged  himself  gently, 
and  as  gently  went  out  into  the  veranda.  Before 
Kate  returned  he  had  disappeared  in  a  cloud  of 
dust  and  a  flourish  of  trumpets.  As  he  was  going, 
a  messenger  came  to  the  house  bearing  a  grass- 
woven  basket  piled  high  with  shaddock,  banana, 


310  THE  NAULAHKA. 

and  pomegranate  —  emerald,  gold,  and  copper,  which 
he  laid  at  Kate's  feet,  saying,  "It  is  a  present 
from  the  Queen." 

The  little  Prince  within  heard  the  voice,  and 
cried  joyfully:  "Kate,  my  mother  has  sent  you 
those.  Are  they  big  fruits?  Oh,  give  me  a 
pomegranate,"  he  begged  as  she  came  back  into 
his  room.  "I  have  tasted  none  since  last  winter." 

Kate  set  the  basket  on  the  table,  and  the  Prince's 
mood  changed.  He  wanted  pomegranate  sherbet, 
and  Kate  must  mix  the  sugar  and  the  milk  and 
the  syrup  and  the  plump  red  seeds.  Kate  left  the 
room  for  an  instant  to  get  a  glass,  and  it  occurred 
to  Moti,  who  had  been  foiled  in  an  attempt  to 
appropriate  the  Prince's  emeralds,  and  had  hidden 
under  the  bed,  to  steal  forth  and  seize  upon  a  ripe 
banana.  Knowing  well  that  the  Maharaj  Kunwar 
could  not  move,  Moti  paid  no  attention  to  his 
voice,  but  settled  himself  deliberately  on  his 
haunches,  chose  his  banana,  stripped  off  the  skin 
with  his  little  black  fingers,  grinned  at  the  Prince, 
and  began  to  eat. 

"Very  well,  Moti,"  said  the  Maharaj  Kunwar, 
in  the  vernacular;  "Kate  says  you  are  not  a  god, 
but  only  a  little  gray  monkey,  and  I  think  so  too. 
When  she  comes  back  you  will  be  beaten,  Hanu- 
man." 

Moti   had    eaten    half    the    banana    when    Kate 


A   STOEY   OF  WEST   AND   EAST.  311 

returned,  but  he  did  not  try  to  escape.  She  cuffed 
the  marauder  lightly,  and  he  fell  over  on  his  side. 

"Why,  Lalji,  what's  the  matter  with  Moti?" 
she  asked,  regarding  the  monkey  curiously. 

"He  has  been  stealing,  and  now  I  suppose  he 
is  playing  dead  man.  Hit  him !  " 

Kate  bent  over  the  limp  little  body;  but  there 
was  no  need  to  chastise  Moti.  He  was  dead. 

She  turned  pale,  and  lifting  the  basket  of  fruit 
quickly  to  her  nostrils,  sniffed  delicately  at  it.  A 
faint,  sweet,  cloying  odor  rose  from  the  brilliant 
pile.  It  was  overpowering.  She  set  the  basket 
down,  putting  her  hand  to  her  head.  The  odor 
dizzied  her. 

"Well,"  said  the  Prince,  who  could  not  see  his 
dead  pet,  "I  want  my  sherbet." 

"The  fruit  is  not  quite  good,  I'm  afraid,  Lalji," 
she  said,  with  an  effort.  As  she  spoke  she  tossed 
into  the  garden,  through  the  open  window,  the 
uneaten  fragment  of  the  banana  that  Moti  had 
clasped  so  closely  to  his  wicked  little  breast. 

A  parrot  instantly  swooped  down  from  the  trees 
on  the  morsel,  and  took  it  back  to  his  perch  in 
the  branches.  It  was  done  before  Kate,  still 
unsteadied,  could  make  a  motion  to  stop  it,  and 
a  moment  later  a  little  ball  of  green  feathers  fell 
from  the  covert  of  leaves,  and  the  parrot  also  lay 
dead  on  the  ground. 


312  THE   NAULAHKA. 

"No;  the  fruit  is  not  good,"  she  said  mechani- 
cally, her  eyes  wide  with  terror,  and  her  face 
blanched.  Her  thoughts  leaped  to  Tarvin.  Ah, 
the  warnings  and  the  entreaties  that  she  had  put 
from  her!  He  had  said  that  she  was  not  safe. 
Was  he  not  right?  The  awful  subtlety  of  the 
danger  in  which  she  stood  was  a  thing  to  shake 
a  stronger  woman  than  she.  From  where  would 
it  come  next?  Out  of  what  covert  might  it  not 
leap?  The  very  air  might  be  poisoned.  She 
scarcely  dared  to  breathe. 

The  audacity  of  the  attack  daunted  her  as  much 
as  its  design.  If  this  might  be  done  in  open  day, 
under  cover  of  friendship,  immediately  after  the 
visit  of  the  King,  what  might  not  the  gypsy  in 
the  palace  dare  next?  She  and  the  Maharaj  Kun- 
war  were  under  the  same  roof;  if  Tarvin  was  right 
in  supposing  that  Sitabhai  could  wish  her  harm,  the 
fruit  was  evidently  intended  for  them  both.  She 
shuddered  to  think  how  she  herself  might  have 
given  the  fruit  to  the  Maharaj  innocently. 

The  Prince  turned  in  his  bed  and  regarded  Kate. 
"You  are  not  well?"  he  asked,  with  grave  polite- 
ness. "Then  do  not  trouble  about  the  sherbet. 
Give  me  Moti  to  play  with." 

"  O  Lalji,  Lalji ! "  cried  Kate,  tottering  to  the 
bed.  She  dropped  beside  the  boy,  cast  her  arms 
defendingly  about  him,  and  burst  into  tears. 


A  STORY  Off  WEST  AND  EAST. 

"You  have  cried  twice,"  said  the  Prince,  watch- 
ing her  heaving  shoulders  curiously.  "  I  shall  tell 
Tarvin  Sahib." 

The  word  smote  Kate's  heart,  and  filled  her  with 
a  bitter  and  fruitless  longing.  Oh,  for  a  moment 
of  the  sure  and  saving  strength  she  had  just  rejected ! 
Where  was  he?  she  asked  herself  reproachfully. 
What  had  happened  to  the  man  she  had  sent  from 
her  to  take  the  chances  of  life  and  death  in  this 
awful  land? 

At  that  hour  Tarvin  was  sitting  in  his  room  at 
the  rest-house,  with  both  doors  open  to  the  stifling 
wind  of  the  desert,  that  he  might  command  all 
approaches  clearly,  his  revolver  on  the  table  in 
front  of  him,  and  the  Naulahka  in  his  pocket,  yearn- 
ing to  be  gone,  and  loathing  this  conquest  that  did 
not  include  Kate. 


314  THE  NATTLAHKA. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

We  be  the  Gods  of  the  East 

Older  than  all, 
Masters  of  mourning  and  feast  — 

How  shall  we  fall  ? 

Will  they  gape  to  the  huska  that  ye  proffer 

Or  yearn  to  your  song, 
And  we  —  have  we  nothing  to  offer 

Who  ruled  them  so  long 

In  the  fume  of  the  incense,  the  clash  of  the  cymbal,  the  blare  of 
the  conch  and  the  gong  ? 

Over  the  strife  of  the  schools 
Low  the  day  burns  — 
Back  with  the  kine  from  the  pools 

Each  one  returns 

To  the  life  that  he  knows  where  the  altar  flame  glows  and  the 
tulsi  is  trimmed  in  the  urns.* 

Song. 

THE  evening  and  the  long  night  gave  Kate 
ample  time  for  self-examination  after  she  had 
locked  up  the  treacherous  fruit,  and  consoled  the 
Maharaj,  through  her  tears,  for  the  mysterious  death 
of  Moti.  One  thing  only  seemed  absolutely  clear 
to  her,  when  she  rose  red-eyed  and  unrefreshed 
the  next  morning:  her  work  was  with  the  women 
as  long  as  life  remained,  and  the  sole  refuge  for 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  MacmilUn  &  Co. 


A  STOBY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  315 

her  present  trouble  was  in  the  portion  of  that  work 
which  lay  nearest  to  her  hand.  Meanwhile  the 
man  who  loved  her  remained  in  Gokral  Seetarun, 
in  deadly  peril  of  his  life,  that  he  might  be  within 
call  of  her;  and  she  could  not  call  him,  for  to 
summon  him  was  to  yield,  and  she  dared  not. 

She  took  her  way  to  the  hospital.  The  dread 
for  him  that  had  assailed  her  yesterday  had  become 
a  horror  that  would  not  let  her  think. 

The  woman  'of  the  desert  was  waiting  as  usual 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  her  hands  clasped  over 
her  knee,  and  her  face  veiled.  Behind  her  was 
Dhunpat  Rai,  who  should  have  been  among  the 
wards;  and  she  could  see  that  the  court-yard  was 
filled  with  people  —  strangers  and  visitors,  who, 
by  her  new  regulations,  were  allowed  to  come  only 
once  a  week.  This  was  not  their  visiting-day, 
and  Kate,  strained  and  worn  by  all  that  she  had 
passed  through  since  the  day  before,  felt  an  angry 
impulse  in  her  heart  go  out  against  them,  and 
spoke  wrathfully. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  Dhunpat  Rai  ? " 
she  demanded,  alighting. 

"There  is  commotion  of  popular  bigotry  within," 
said  Dhunpat  Rai.  "It  is  nothing.  I  have  seen 
it  before.  Only  do  not  go  in." 

She  put  him  aside  without  a  word,  and  was 
about  to  enter  when  she  met  one  of  her  patients, 


316  THE  NAULAHKA. 

a  man  in  the  last  stage  of  typhoid  fever,  being 
borne  out  by  half  a  dozen  clamoring  friends,  who 
shouted  at  her  menacingly.  The  woman  of  the 
desert  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant,  raising  her 
hand,  in  the  brown  hollow  of  which  lay  a  long, 
broad-bladed  knife. 

"  Be  still,  dogs ! "  she  shouted,  in  their  own 
tongue.  "  Dare  not  to  lay  hands  on  this  peri,  who 
has  done  all  for  you ! " 

"She  is  killing  our  people,"  shouted  a  vil- 
lager. 

"Maybe,"  said  the  woman,  with  a  flashing  smile; 
"but  I  know  who  will  be  lying  here  dead  if  you 
do  not  suffer  her  to  pass.  Are  you  Rajputs;  or 
Bhils  from  the  hills,  hunters  of  fish  and  diggers 
after  grubs,  that  you  run  like  cattle  because  a  lying 
priest  from  nowhere  troubles  your  heads  of  mud? 
Is  she  killing  your  people?  How  long  can  you 
keep  that  man  alive  with  your  charms  and  your 
muntras!"  she  demanded,  pointing  to  the  stricken 
form  on  the  stretcher.  "Out  —  go  out!  Is  this 
hospital  your  own  village  to  defile?  Have  you 
paid  one  penny  for  the  roof  above  you  or  the  drugs 
in  your  bellies?  Get  hence  before  I  spit  upon 
you!"  She  brushed  them  aside  with  a  regal  ges- 
ture. 

"It  is  best  not  to  go  in,"  said  Dhunpat  Rai  in 
Kate's  ear.  "There  is  local  holy  man  in  the 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  817 

court-yard,  and  he  is  agitating  their  minds.  Also, 
I  myself  feel  much  indisposed." 

"  But  what  does  all  this  mean  ? "  demanded  Kate 
again. 

For  the  hospital  was  in  the  hands  of  a  hurrying 
crowd,  who  were  strapping  up  bedding  and  cook- 
ing-pots, lamps  and  linen,  calling  to  one  another 
up  and  down  the  staircases  in  subdued  voices,  and 
bringing  the  sick  from  the  upper  wards  as  ants 
bring  eggs  out  of  a  broken  hill,  six  or  eight  to 
each  man  —  some  holding  bunches  of  marigold 
flowers  in  their  hands,  and  pausing  to  mutter 
prayers  at  each  step,  others  peering  fearfully  into 
the  dispensary,  and  yet  others  drawing  water  from 
the  well  and  pouring  it  out  around  the  beds. 

In  the  centre  of  the  court-yard,  as  naked  as  the 
lunatic  who  had  once  lived  there,  sat  an  ash- 
smeared,  long-haired,  eagle-taloned,  half-mad,  wan- 
dering native  priest,  and  waved  above  his  head 
his  buckhorn  staff,  sharp  as  a  lance  at  one  end, 
while  he  chanted  in  a  loud,  monotonous  voice  some 
song  that  drove  the  men  and  women  to  work  more 
quickly. 

As  Kate  faced  him,  white  with  wrath,  her  eyes 
blazing,  the  song  turned  to  a  yelp  of  fierce  hatred. 

She  dashed  among  the  women  swiftly  —  her  own 
women,  whom  she  thought  had  grown  to  love  her. 
But  their  relatives  were  about  them,  and  Kate  was 


318  THE  NAULAHKA. 

thrust  back  by  a  bare-shouldered,  loud-voiced  dweller 
of  the  out-villages  in  the  heart  of  the  desert. 

The  man  had  no  intention  of  doing  her  harm, 
but  the  woman  of  the  desert  slashed  him  across 
the  face  with  her  knife,  and  he  withdrew  howling. 

"Let  me  speak  to  them,"  said  Kate,  and  the 
woman  beside  her  quelled  the  clamor  of  the  crowd 
with  uplifted  hands.  Only  the  priest  continued 
his  song.  Kate  strode  toward  him,  her  little  figure 
erect  and  quivering,  crying  in  the  vernacular,  "Be 
silent,  thou,  or  I  will  find  means  to  close  thy 
mouth!" 

The  man  was  hushed,  and  Kate,  returning  to 
her  women,  stood  among  them,  and  began  to  speak 
impassionedly. 

"O,  my  women,  what  have  I  done?"  she  cried, 
still  in  the  vernacular.  "  If  there  is  any  fault  here, 
who  should  right  it  but  your  friend?  Surely  you 
can  speak  to  me  day  or  night."  She  threw  out  her 
arms.  "  Surilo^  hamaree  bhain-log!  Listen,  my 
sisters  I  Have  you  gone  mad,  that  you  wish  to 
go  abroad  now,  half -cured,  sick,  or  dying?  You 
are  free  to  go  at  any  hour.  Only,  for  your  own 
sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  your  children,  do  not  go 
before  I  have  cured  you,  if  God  so  please.  It  is 
summer  in  the  desert  now,  and  many  of  you  have 
come  from  many  cross  distant." 

"She  speaks  truth,  she  speaks  truth,"  said  a 
voice  in  the  crowd. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  819 

"  Ay,  I  do  speak  truth.  And  I  have  dealt  fairly 
by  ye.  Surely  it  is  upon  your  heads  to  tell  me 
the  cause  of  this  flight,  and  not  to  run  away  like 
mice.  My  sisters,  ye  are  weak  and  ill,  and  your 
friends  do  not  know  wkat  is  best  for  ye.  But  I 
know." 

"Arre!  But  what  can  we  do?"  cried  a  feeble 
voice.  "It  is  no  fault  of  ours.  I,  at  least,  would 
fain  die  in  peace,  but  the  priest  says  — " 

Then  the  clamor  broke  out  afresh.  "There  are 
charms  written  upon  the  plasters  — " 

"Why  should  we  become  Christians  against  our 
will?  The  wise  woman  that  was  sent  away  asks 
it." 

"What  are  the  meanings  of  the  red  marks  on 
the  plasters?" 

"  Why  should  we  have  strange  devil-marks  stamped 
upon  our  bodies?  And  they  burn,  too,  like  the 
fires  of  hell." 

"  The  priest  came  yesterday,  —  that  holy  man 
yonder,  —  and  he  said  it  had  been  revealed  to 
him,  sitting  among  the  hills,  that  this  devil's  plan 
was  on  foot  to  make  us  lose  our  religion  — " 

"  And  to  send  us  out  of  the  hospital  with  marks 
upon  our  bodies  —  ay,  and  all  the  babies  we  should 
bear  in  the  hospital  should  have  tails  like  camels, 
and  ears  like  mules.  The  wise  woman  says  so; 
the  priest  says  so." 


320  THE   NAULAHKA. 

"Hush!  hush!"  cried  Kate,  in  the  face  of  these 
various  words.  "What  plasters?  What  child's 
talk  is  this  of  plasters  and  devils  ?  Not  one  child, 
but  many  have  been  born  here,  and  all  were  comely. 
Ye  know  it!  This  is  the  word  of  the  worthless 
woman  whom  I  sent  away  because  she  was  torturing 
you." 

"Nay;   but  the  priest  said  — " 

"What  care  I  for  the  priest?  Has  he  nursed 
you?  Has  he  watched  by  you  of  nights?  Has  he 
sat  by  your  bedside,  and  smoothed  your  pillow, 
and  held  your  hand  in  pain  ?  Has  he  taken  your 
children  from  you  and  put  them  to  sleep,  when 
he  needed  an  hour's  rest?" 

"  He  is  a  holy  man.  He  has  worked  miracles. 
We  dare  not  face  the  anger  of  the  gods." 

One  woman,  bolder  than  the  rest,  shouted,  "Look 
at  this,"  and  held  before  Kate's  face  one  of  the 
prepared  mustard  leaves  lately  ordered  from  Cal- 
cutta, which  bore  upon  the  back,  in  red  ink,  the 
maker's  name  and  trademark. 

"What  is  this  devil's  thing?"  demanded  the 
woman,  fiercely. 

The  woman  of  the  desert  caught  her  by  the 
shoulder  and  forced  her  to  her  knees. 

"  Be  still,  woman  without  a  nose ! "  she  cried, 
her  voice  vibrating  with  passion.  "She  is  not  of 
thy  clay,  and  thy  touch  would  defile  her.  Remem- 
ber thine  own  dunghill,  and  speak  softly." 


A  STOBY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  321 

Kate  picked  up  the  plaster,  smiling. 

"And  who  says  there  is  devil's  work  in  this?" 
she  demanded. 

"The  holy  man,  the  priest.  Surely  he  should 
know." 

"Nay,  ye  should  know,"  said  Kate,  patiently. 
She  understood  now,  and  could  pity.  "Ye  have 
worn  it.  Did  it  work  thee  any  harm,  Pithira?" 
She  pointed  directly  toward  her.  "Thou  hast 
thanked  me  not  once  but  many  times  for  giving 
thee  relief  through  this  charm.  If  it  was  the 
devil's  work,  why  did  it  not  consume  thee?" 

"Indeed,  it  burnt  very  much  indeed,"  responded 
the  woman,  with  a  nervous  laugh. 

Kate  could  not  help  laughing.  "That  is  true. 
I  cannot  make  my  drugs  pleasant.  But  ye  know 
that  they  do  good.  What  do  these  people,  your 
friends  —  villagers,  camel-drivers,  goatherds  —  know 
of  English  drugs?  Are  they  so  wise  among  their 
hills,  or  is  the  priest  so  wise,  that  they  can  judge 
for  ye  here,  fifty  miles  away  from  them?  Do  not 
listen  I  Oh,  do  not  listen!  Tell  them  that  ye 
will  stay  with  me,  and  I  will  make  ye  well.  I 
can  do  no  more.  It  was  for  that  I  came.  I  heard 
of  your  misery  ten  thousand  miles  away,  and  it 
burnt  into  my  heart.  Would  I  have  come  so  far 
to  work  you  harm?  Go  back  to  your  beds,  my 
sisters,  and  bid  these  foolish  people  depart." 

Y 


322  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

There  was  a  murmur  among  the  women,  as  if 
of  assent  and  doubt.  For  a  moment  the  decision 
swayed  one  way  and  the  other. 

Then  the  man  whose  face  had  been  slashed 
shouted,  "What  is  the  use  of  talking?  Let  us 
take  our  wives  and  sisters  away.  We  do  not 
wish  to  have  sons  like  devils.  Give  us  your 
voice,  O  father!"  he  cried  to  the  priest. 

The  holy  man  drew  himself  up,  and  swept  away 
Kate's  appeal  with  a  torrent  of  abuse,  imprecation, 
and  threats  of  damnation;  and  the  crowd  began  to 
slip  past  Kate  by  twos  and  threes,  half  carrying 
and  half  forcing  their  kinsfolk  with  them. 

Kate  called  on  the  women  by  name,  beseeching 
them  to  stay,  reasoning,  arguing,  expostulating. 
But  to  no  purpose.  Many  of  them  were  in  tears ; 
but  the  answer  from  all  was  the  same.  They  were 
sorry,  but  they  were  only  poor  women,  and  they 
feared  the  wrath  of  their  husbands. 

Minute  after  minute  the  wards  were  depopulated 
of  their  occupants,  as  the  priest  resumed  his  song, 
and  began  to  dance  frenziedly  in  the  court-yard. 
The  stream  of  colors  broke  out  down  the  steps  into 
the  street,  and  Kate  saw  the  last  of  her  carefully 
swathed  women  borne  out  into  the  pitiless  sun- 
glare  —  only  the  woman  of  the  desert  remaining  by 
her  side. 

Kate  looked  on  with  stony  eyes.  Her  hospital 
was  empty. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  823 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Out  little  maid  that  hath  no  breasts, 

Our  Sister,  sayeth  such  and  such  ; 
And  we  must  bow  to  her  behests — 

Our  sister  toileth  overmuch. 

A  field  untilled,  a  web  unwove, 

A  bud  withheld  from  sun  and  bee, 
An  alien  in  the  courts  of  love, 

And  priestess  of  His  shrine  is  she. 

We  love  her,  but  we  laugh  the  while ; 

We  laugh,  but  sobs  are  mixed  with  laughter ; 
Our  sister  hath  no  time  to  smile  — 

She  knows  not  must  follow  after. 

Wind  of  the  South,  arise  and  blow 
From  beds  of  spice,  thy  locks  shake  free  — 

Breathe  on  her  heart  that  she  may  know, 
Breathe  on  her  eyes  that  she  may  seel 

Alas !  we  vex  her  with  our  mirth 
And  plague  her  with  most  tender  scorn 

Who  stands  beside  the  Gates  of  Birth, 
Herself  a  child  —  a  child  unborn. 

Our  little  maid  that  hath  no  breasts; 

Our  Sister,  sayeth  such  and  such  / 
And  we  must  bow  to  her  behests  — 

Our  sister  toileth  overmuch.* 

Queens'  Song  from  Libretto  o/Naulahka. 


*  Copyright,  1892,  by  ICaomillan  &  Co. 


824  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"  HAS  the  Miss  Sahib  any  orders  ?  "  asked  Dhun- 
pat  Rai,  with  Oriental  calmness,  as  Kate  turned 
toward  the  woman  of  the  desert,  staying  herself 
against  her  massive  shoulder. 

Kate  simply  shook  her  head  with  closed  lips. 

"It  is  very  sad,"  said  Dhunpat  Rai  thoughtfully, 
as  though  the  matter  were  one  in  which  he  had 
no  interest,  "but  it  is  on  account  c*  religious 
bigotry  and  intolerance  which  is  prevalent  mania 
in  these  parts.  Once  —  twice  before  I  have  seen 
the  same  thing.  About  powders,  sometimes,  and 
once  they  said  that  the  graduated  glasses  were  holy 
vessels,  and  zinc  ointment  was  cow-fat.  But  I 
have  never  seen  all  the  hospital  disembark  simul- 
taneously. I  do  not  think  they  will  come  back; 
but  my  appointment  is  State  appointment,"  he 
said  with  a  bland  smile,  "and  so  I  shall  draw  my 
offeeshal  income  as  before." 

Kate  stared  at  him.  "Do  you  mean  that  they 
will  never  come  back?"  she  asked  falteringly. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  in  time  —  one  or  two ;  two  or  three 
of  the  men  when  they  are  hurt  by  tigers,  or  have 
ophthalmia ;  but  the  women  —  no.  Their  husbands 
will  never  allow.  Ask  that  woman  I  " 

Kate  bent  a  piteous  look  of  inquiry  upon  the 
woman  of  the  desert,  who,  stooping  down,  took  up 
a  little  sand,  let  it  trickle  through  her  fingers, 
brushed  her  palms  together,  and  shook  her  head. 
Kate  watched  these  movements  despairingly. 


A  STOBY  OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  325 

"You  see  it  is  all  up  —  no  good,"  said  Dhunpat 
Rai,  not  unkindly,  but  unable  to  conceal  a  certain 
expression  of  satisfaction  in  a  defeat  which  the  wise 
had  already  predicted.  "And  now  what  will  your 
honor  do?  Shall  I  lock  up  dispensary,  or  will  you 
audit  drug  accounts  now?" 

Kate  waved  him  off  feebly.  "  No,  no !  Not  now. 
I  must  think.  I  must  have  time.  I  will  send  you 
word.  Come,  dear  one,"  she  added  in  the  vernac- 
ular to  the  woman  of  the  desert,  and  hand  in  hand 
they  went  out  from  the  hospital  together. 

The  sturdy  Rajput  woman  caught  her  up  like  a 
child  when  they  were  outside,  and  set  her  upon 
her  horse,  and  tramped  doggedly  alongside,  as  they 
set  off  together  toward  the  house  of  the  missionary. 

"  And  whither  wilt  thou  go?"  asked  Kate,  in  the 
woman's  own  tongue. 

"I  was  the  first  of  them  all,"  answered  the 
patient  being  at  her  side;  "it  is  fitting  therefore 
that  I  should  be  the  last.  Where  thou  goest  I 
will  go  —  and  afterward  what  will  fall  will  fall." 

Kate  leaned  down  and  took  the  woman's  hand 
in  hers  with  a  grateful  pressure. 

At  the  missionary's  gate  she  had  to  call  up  her 
courage  not  to  break  down.  She  had  told  Mrs. 
Estes  so  much  of  her  hopes  for  the  future,  had 
dwelt  so  lovingly  on  all  that  she  meant  to  teach 
these  helpless  creatures,  had  so  constantly  conferred 


826  THE  NAULAHKA. 

with  her  about  the  help  she  had  fancied  herself  to 
be  daily  bringing  to  them,  that  to  own  that  her 
work  had  fallen  to  this  ruin  was  unspeakably 
bitter.  The  thought  of  Tarvin  she  fought  back. 
It  went  too  deep. 

But,  fortunately,  Mrs.  Estes  seemed  not  to  be 
at  home,  and  a  messenger  from  the  queen-mother 
awaited  Kate  to  demand  her  presence  at  the  palace 
with  Maharaj  Kunwar. 

The  woman  of  the  desert  laid  a  restraining  hand 
on  her  arm,  but  Kate  shook  it  off. 

"No,  no,  no  I  I  must  go.  I  must  do  something," 
she  exclaimed,  almost  fiercely,  "since  there  is  still 
some  one  who  will  let  me.  I  must  have  work.  It 
is  my  only  refuge,  kind  one.  Go  you  on  to  the 
palace. " 

The  woman  yielded  silently  and  trudged  on  up 
the  dusty  road,  while  Kate  sped  into  the  house 
and  to  the  room  where  the  young  Prince  lay. 

"Lalji,"  she  said,  bending  over  him,  "do  you 
feel  well  enough  to  be  lifted  into  the  carriage  and 
taken  over  to  see  your  mother?" 

"I  would  rather  see  my  father,"  responded  the 
boy  from  the  sofa,  to  which  he  had  been  transferred 
as  a  reward  for  the  improvement  he  had  made  since 
yesterday.  "I  wish  to  speak  to  my  father  upon  a 
most  important  thing." 

"But  your  mother  hasn't  seen  you  for  so  long, 
dear." 


A   STORY   OP  WEST   AND   EAST.  327 

"Very  well;   I  will  go." 

"Then  I  will  tell  them  to  get  the  carriage 
ready. " 

Kate  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  No,  please ;  I  will  have  my  own.  Who  is  with- 
out there?" 

"Heaven-born,  it  is  I,"  answered  the  deep  voice 
of  a  trooper. 

"Achcha!  Ride  swiftly,  and  tell  them  to  send 
down  my  barouche  and  escort.  If  it  is  not  here 
in  ten  minutes,  tell  Sirop  Singh  that  I  will  cut 
his  pay  and  blacken  his  face  before  all  my  men. 
This  day  I  go  abroad  again." 

"May  the  mercy  of  God  be  upon  the  Heaven- 
born  for  ten  thousand  years,"  responded  the  voice 
from  without,  as  the  trooper  heaved  himself  into 
the  saddle  and  clattered  away. 

By  the  time  that  the  Prince  was  ready,  a  lumber- 
ing equipage,  stuffed  with  many  cushions,  waited 
at  the  door.  Kate  and  Mrs.  Estes  half  helped  and 
half  carried  the  child  into  it,  though  he  strove  to 
stand  on  his  feet  in  the  veranda  and  acknowledge 
the  salute  of  his  escort  as  befitted  a  man. 

" Ahi!  I  am  very  weak,"  he  said,  with  a  little 
laugh,  as  they  drove  to  the  palace.  "Certainly  it 
seems  to  myself  that  I  shall  never  get  well  in 
Rhatore." 

Kate  put  her  arm  about  him  and  drew  him  closer 
to  her. 


328  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Kate,"  he  continued,  "if  I  ask  anything  of  my 
father,  will  you  say  that  that  thing  is  good  for 
me?" 

Kate,  whose  thoughts  were  still  bitter  and  far 
away,  patted  his  shoulder  vaguely  as  she  lifted 
her  tear-stained  eyes  toward  the  red  height  on 
which  the  palace  stood. 

"  How  can  I  tell,  Lalji  ?  "  She  smiled  down  into 
his  upturned  face. 

"But  it  is  a  most  wise  thing." 

"Is  it?"  asked  she  fondly. 

"Yes;  I  have  thought  it  out  by  myself.  I  am 
myself  a  Raj  Kumar,  and  I  would  go  to  the  Raj 
Kumar  College,  where  they  train  the  sons  of  princes 
to  become  kings.  That  is  only  at  Ajmir;  but  I 
must  go  and  learn,  and  fight,  and  ride  with  the 
other  princes  of  Rajputana,  and  then  I  shall  be  alto- 
gether a  man.  I  am  going  to  the  Raj  Kumar  Col- 
lege at  Ajmir,  that  I  may  learn  about  the  world. 
But  you  shall  see  how  it  is  wise.  The  world 
looks  very  big  since  I  have  been  ill.  Kate,  how 
big  is  the  world  which  you  have  seen  across  the 
Black  Water?  Where  is  Tarvin  Sahib?  I  have 
wished  to  see  him  too.  Is  Tarvin  Sahib  angry 
with  me  or  with  you?" 

He  plied  her  with  a  hundred  questions  till  they 
halted  before  one  of  the  gates  in  the  flank  of  the 
palace  that  led  to  his  mother's  wing.  The  woman 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AHD  EAST.  829 

of  the  desert  rose  from  the  ground  beside  it,  and 
held  out  her  arms. 

"I  heard  the  message  come,"  she  said  to  Kate, 
"and  I  knew  what  was  required.  Give  me  the 
child  to  carry  in.  Nay,  my  Prince,  there  is  no 
cause  for  fear.  I  am  of  good  blood." 

"  Women  of  good  blood  walk  veiled,  and  do  not 
speak  in  the  streets,"  said  the  child  doubtfully. 

"One  law  for  thee  and  thine,  and  another  for 
me  and  mine,"  the  woman  answered  with  a  laugh. 
"We  who  earn  our  bread  by  toil  cannot  go  veiled, 
but  our  fathers  lived  before  us  for  many  hundred 
years,  even  as  did  thine,  Heaven-born.  Come 
then,  the  white  fairy  cannot  carry  thee  so  tenderly 
as  I  can." 

She  put  her  arms  about  him,  and  held  him  to 
her  breast  as  easily  as  though  he  had  been  a  three- 
year-old  child.  He  leaned  back  luxuriously,  and 
waved  a  wasted  hand ;  the  grim  gate  grated  on  its 
hinges  as  it  swung  back,  and  they  entered  together 
—  the  woman,  the  child,  and  the  girl. 

There  was  no  lavish  display  of  ornament  in  that 
part  of  the  palace.  The  gaudy  tile-work  on  the 
walls  had  flaked  and  crumbled  away  in  many 
places,  the  shutters  lacked  paint  and  hung  awry, 
and  there  was  litter  and  refuse  in  the  court-yard 
behind  the  gates.  A  queen  who  has  lost  the  King's 
favor  loses  much  else  as  well  in  material  comforts. 


330  THE  NAtTLAHKA. 

A  door  opened  and  a  voice  called.  The  three 
plunged  into  half  darkness,  and  traversed  a  long, 
upward-sloping  passage,  floored  with  shining  white 
stucco  as  smooth  as  marble,  which  communicated 
with  the  Queen's  apartments.  The  Maharaj  Kun- 
war's  mother  lived  by  preference  in  one  long,  low 
room  that  faced  to  the  northeast,  that  she  might 
press  her  face  against  the  marble  tracery  and  dream 
of  her  home  across  the  sands,  eight  hundred  miles 
away,  among  the  Kulu  hills.  The  hum  of  the 
crowded  palace  could  not  be  heard  there,  and  the 
footsteps  of  her  few  waiting-women  alone  broke 
the  silence. 

The  woman  of  the  desert,  with  the  Prince  hugged 
more  closely  to  her  breast,  moved  through  the  laby- 
rinth of  empty  rooms,  narrow  staircases,  and  roofed 
court-yards  with  the  air  of  a  caged  panther.  Kate 
and  the  Prince  were  familiar  with  the  dark  and 
the  tortuousness,  the  silence  and  the  sullen  mys- 
tery. To  the  one  it  was  part  and  parcel  of  the 
horrors  amid  which  she  had  elected  to  move;  to 
the  other  it  was  his  daily  life. 

At  last  the  journey  ended.  Kate  lifted  a  heavy 
curtain,  as  the  Prince  called  for  his  mother;  and 
the  Queen,  rising  from  a  pile  of  white  cushions  by 
the  window,  cried  passionately  — 

"Is  it  well  with  the  child?" 

The    Prince    struggled    to    the    floor    from    the 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  331 

woman's  arms,  and  the  Queen  hung  sobbing  over 
him,  calling  him  a  thousand  endearing  names,  and 
fondling  him  from  head  to  foot.  The  child's 
reserve  melted  —  he  had  striven  for  a  moment  to 
carry  himself  as  a  man  of  the  Rajput  race :  that  is 
to  say,  as  one  shocked  beyond  expression  at  any 
public  display  of  emotion  —  and  he  laughed  and 
wept  in  his  mother's  arms.  The  woman  of  the 
desert  drew  her  hand  across  her  eyes,  muttering  to 
herself,  and  Kate  turned  to  look  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 

"  How  shall  I  give  you  thanks  ?  "  said  the  Queen 
at  last.  "Oh,  my  son  —  my  little  son  —  child  of 
my  heart,  the  gods  and  she  have  made  thee  well 
again.  But  who  is  that  yonder?" 

Her  eyes  fell  for  the  first  time  on  the  woman 
of  the  desert,  where  the  latter  stood  by  the  door- 
way draped  in  dull-red. 

"She  carried  me  here  from  the  carriage,"  said 
the  Prince,  "saying  that  she  was  a  Rajput  of  good 
blood." 

"I  am  of  Chohan  blood  —  a  Rajput  and  a  mother 
of  Rajputs,"  said  the  woman  simply,  still  standing. 
"  The  white  fairy  worked  a  miracle  upon  my  man. 
He  was  sick  in  the  head  and  did  not  know  me. 
It  is  true  that  he  died,  but  before  the  passing  of 
the  breath  he  knew  me  and  called  me  by  my 
name." 


332  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"  And  she  carried  thee ! "  said  the  Queen  with  a 
shiver,  drawing  the  Prince  closer  to  her,  for,  like 
all  Indian  women,  she  counted  the  touch  and  glance 
of  a  widow  things  of  evil  omen. 

The  woman  fell  at  the  Queen's  feet.  "Forgive 
me,  forgive  me,"  she  cried.  "I  had  borne  three 
little  ones,  and  the  gods  took  them  all  and  my 
man  at  the  last.  It  was  good  —  it  was  so  good — • 
to  hold  a  child  in  my  arms  again.  Thou  canst 
forgive,"  she  wailed,  "thou  art  so  rich  in  thy  son, 
and  I  am  only  a  widow." 

"  And  I  a  widow  in  life,"  said  the  Queen  under  her 
breath.  "Of  a  truth,  I  should  forgive.  Rise  thou." 

The  woman  lay  still  where  she  had  fallen,  clutch- 
ing at  the  Queen's  naked  feet. 

"Rise,  then,  my  sister,"  the  Queen  whispered. 

"We  of  the  fields,"  murmured  the  woman  of 
the  desert,  "we  do  not  know  how  to  speak  to 
the  great  people.  If  my  words  are  rough,  does  the 
Queen  forgive  me?" 

"Indeed  I  forgive.  Thy  speech  is  softer  than 
that  of  the  hill  women  of  Kulu,  but  some  of  the 
words  are  new." 

"I  am  of  the  desert  —  a  herder  of  camels,  a  milker 
of  goats.  What  should  I  know  of  the  speech  of 
courts?  Let  the  white  fairy  speak  for  me." 

Kate  listened  with  an  alien  ear.  Now  that  she 
had  discharged  her  duty,  her  freed  mind  went  back 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  333 

to  Tarvin's  danger  and  the  shame  and  overthrow 
of  an  hour  ago.  She  saw  the  women  in  her  hos- 
pital slipping  away  one  by  one,  her  work  unrav- 
elled, and  all  hope  of  good  brought  to  wreck;  and 
she  saw  Tarvin  dying  atrocious  deaths,  and,  as  she 
felt,  by  her  hand. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  wearily,  as  the  woman 
plucked  at  her  skirt.  Then  to  the  Queen,  "This 
is  a  woman  who  alone  of  all  those  whom  I  tried 
to  benefit  remained  at  my  side  to-day,  Queen." 

"There  has  been  a  talk  in  the  palace,"  said  the 
Queen,  her  arm  round  the  Prince's  neck,  "a  talk 
that  trouble  had  come  to  your  hospital,  Sahiba." 

"There  is  no  hospital  now,"  Kate  answered, 
grimly. 

"You  promised  to  take  me  there,  Kate,  some 
day,"  the  Prince  said  in  English. 

"The  women  were  fools,"  said  the  woman  of  the 
desert  quietly,  from  her  place  on  the  ground.  "  A 
mad  priest  told  them  a  lie  —  that  there  was  a  charm 
among  the  drugs  —  " 

"  Deliver  us  from  all  evil  spirits  and  exorcisms, " 
the  Queen  murmured. 

"A  charm  among  her  drugs  that  she  handles 
with  her  own  hands,  and  so  forsooth,  Sahiba,  they 
must  run  out  shrieking  that  their  children  will 
be  misborn  apes  and  their  chicken-souls  given  to 
the  devils.  Ahot  They  will  know  in  a  week, 


334  THE  NAULAHKA. 

not  one  or  two,  but  many,  whither  their  souls  go: 
for  they  will  die  —  the  corn  and  the  corn  in  the 
ear  together." 

Kate  shivered.  She  knew  too  well  that  the 
woman  spoke  the  truth. 

"But  the  drugs!"  began  the  Queen.  "Who 
knows  what  powers  there  may  be  in  the  drugs?" 
she  laughed  nervously,  glancing  at  Kate. 

"Dekho!  Look  at  her,"  said  the  woman,  with 
quiet  scorn.  "She  is  a  girl  and  naught  else. 
What  could  she  do  to  the  Gates  of  Life?" 

"She  has  made  my  son  whole;  therefore  she  is 
my  sister,"  said  the  Queen. 

"She  caused  my  man  to  speak  to  me  before  the 
death  hour;  therefore  I  am  her  servant  as  well  as 
thine,  Sahiba,"  said  the  other. 

The  Prince  looked  up  in  his  mother's  face  curi- 
ously. "She  calls  thee  'thou,' "  he  said,  as  though 
the  woman  did  not  exist.  "That  is  not  seemly 
between  a  villager  and  a  queen,  thee  and  thou ! " 

"We  be  both  women,  little  son.  Stay  still  in 
my.  arms.  Oh,  it  is  good  to  feel  thee  here  again, 
worthless  one." 

"The  Heaven-born  looks  as  frail  as  dried  maize," 
said  the  woman  quickly. 

"A  dried  monkey,  rather,"  returned  the  Queen, 
dropping  her  lips  on  the  child's  head.  Both 
mothers  spoke  aloud  and  with  emphasis,  that  the 


A  STORY  OP   WEST  AND   BAST.  335 

gods,  jealous  of  human  happiness,  might  hear  and 
take  for  truth  the  disparagement  that  veils  deepest 
love. 

"AAo,  my  little  monkey  is  dead,"  said  the  Prince, 
moving  restlessly.  "I  need  another  one.  Let  me 
go  into  the  palace  and  find  another  monkey." 

"He  must  not  wander  into  the  palace  from  this 
chamber,"  said  the  Queen  passionately,  turning  to 
Kate.  "  Thou  art  all  too  weak,  beloved.  Oh,  Miss 
Sahib,  he  must  not  go."  She  knew  by  experience 
that  it  was  fruitless  to  cross  her  son's  will. 

"It  is  my  order,"  said  the  Prince,  without  turn- 
ing his  head.  "I  will  go." 

"Stay  with  us,  beloved,"  said  Kate.  She  was 
wondering  whether  the  hospital  could  be  dragged 
together  again,  after  three  months,  and  whether  it 
was  possible  she  might  have  overrated  the  danger 
to  Nick. 

"I  go,"  said  the  Prince,  breaking  from  his  moth- 
er's arms.  "I  am  tired  of  this  talk." 

"  Does  the  Queen  give  leave  ?  "  asked  the  woman 
of  the  desert  under  her  breath.  The  Queen  nodded, 
and  the  Prince  found  himself  caught  between  two 
brown  arms,  against  whose  strength  it  was  impos- 
sible to  struggle. 

"Let  me  go,  widow!"  he  shouted  furiously. 

"It  is  not  good  for  a  Rajput  to  make  light  of 
a  mother  of  Rajputs,  my  king,"  was  the  unmoved 


336  THE  NAULAHKA. 

answer.  "If  the  young  steer  does  not  obey  the 
cow,  he  learns  obedience  from  the  yoke.  The 
Heaven-born  is  not  strong.  He  will  fall  among 
those  passages  and  stairs.  He  will  stay  here. 
When  the  rage  has  left  his  body  he  will  be  weaker 
than  before.  Even  now"  —  the  large  bright  eyes 
bent  themselves  on  the  face  of  the  child  —  "even 
now,"  the  calm  voice  continued,  "the  rage  is 
going.  One  moment  more,  Heaven-born,  and  thou 
wilt  be  a  Prince  no  longer,  but  only  a  little,  little 
child,  such  as  I  have  borne.  Ahi,  such  as  I  shall 
never  bear  again." 

With  the  last  words  the  Prince's  head  nodded 
forward  on  her  shoulder.  The  gust  of  passion  had 
spent  itself,  leaving  him,  as  she  had  foreseen,  weak 
to  sleep. 

"  Shame  —  oh,  shame !  "  he  muttered  thickly. 
"Indeed  I  do  not  wish  to  go.  Let  me  sleep." 

"He  is  asleep,"  she  said  at  last.  "What  was 
the  talk  about  his  monkey,  Miss  Sahib?" 

"It  died,"  Kate  said,  and  spurred  herself  to  the 
lie.  "I  think  it  had  eaten  bad  fruit  in  the  garden." 

"In  the  garden?"  said  the  Queen  quickly. 

"Yes,  in  the  garden." 

The  woman  of  the  desert  turned  her  eyes  from 
one  woman  to  the  other.  These  were  matters  too 
high  for  her,  and  she  began  timidly  to  rub  the 
Queen's  feet. 


A   STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  337 

"Monkeys  often  die,"  she  observed.  "I  have 
•seen  as  it  were  a  pestilence  among  the  monkey  folk 
over  there  at  Banswari." 

"In  what  fashion  did  it  die?"  insisted  the 
"Queen. 

"I  —  I  do  not  know,"  Kate  stammered,  and  there 
was  another  long  silence  as  the  hot  afternoon 
wore  on. 

"Miss  Kate,  what  do  you  think  about  my  son?" 
whispered  the  Queen.  "Is  he  well,  or  is  he  not 
well?" 

"He  is  not  very  well.  In  time  he  will  grow 
(stronger,  but  it  would  be  better  if  he  could  go 
;away  for  a  while." 

The  Queen  bowed  her  head  quietly.  "I  have 
'thought  of  that  also  many  times  sitting  here  alone ; 
;and  it  was  the  tearing  out  of  my  own  heart  from 
my  breast.  Yes,  it  would  be  well  if  he  were  to 
Igo  away.  But"  —  she  stretched  out  her  hands 
'despairingly  toward  the  sunshine  —  "what  do  I 
Qmow  of  the  world  where  he  will  go,  and  how  can 
I  be  sure  that  he  will  be  safe?  Here  —  even  here" 
..  .  .  She  checked  herself  suddenly.  "Since  you 
lhave  come,  Miss  Kate,  my  heart  has  known  a  little 
.comfort,  but  I  do  not  know  when  you  will  go 
away  again." 

"I  cannot  guard  the  child  against  every  evil," 
!Kate  replied,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands; 


338  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"but  send  him  away  from  this  place  as  swiftly 
as  may  be.  In  God's  name  let  him  go  away." 

"  Such  hai!  Such  hai!  It  is  the  truth,  the 
truth ! "  The  Queen  turned  from  Kate  to  the 
woman  at  her  feet. 

"Thou  hast  borne  three?"  she  said. 

"Yea,  three,  and  one  other  that  never  drew 
breath.  They  were  all  men-children,"  said  the 
woman  of  the  desert. 

"And  the  gods  took  them?" 

"Of  smallpox  one,  and  fever  the  two  others." 

"Art  thou  certain  that  it  was  the  gods?" 

"I  was  vvith  them  always  till  the  end." 

"Thy  man,  then,  was  all  thine  own?" 

"We  were  only  two,  he  and  I.  Among  our 
villages  the  men  are  poor,  and  one  wife  suffices." 

"Arre!  They  are  rich  among  the  villages. 
Listen  now.  If  a  co-wife  had  sought  the  lives  of 
those  three  of  thine  —  " 

"I  would  have  killed  her.  What  else?"  The 
woman's  nostrils  dilated  and  her  hand  went  swiftly 
to  her  bosom. 

"  And  if  in  place  of  three  there  had  been  one 
only,  the  delight  of  thy  eyes,  and  thou  hadst 
known  that  thou  shouldst  never  bear  another,  and 
the  co-wife  working  in  darkness  had  sought  for 
that  life?  What  then?" 

"I   wpuld    have   slain    her  —  but   with   no   easy 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  339 

death.  At  her  man's  side  and  in  his  arms  I  would 
have  slain  her.  If  she  died  before  my  vengeance 
arrived  I  would  seek  for  her  in  hell." 

"Thou  canst  go  out  in  the  sunshine  and  walk 
in  the  streets  and  no  man  turns  his  head,"  said 
the  Queen  bitterly.  "Thy  hands  are  free  and  thy 
face  is  uncovered.  What  if  thou  wert  a  slave 
among  slaves,  a  stranger  among  stranger  people, 
and"  —  the  voice  dropped  —  "dispossessed  of  the 
favor  of  thy  lord?" 

The  woman,  stooping,  kissed  the  pale  feet  under 
her  hands. 

"  Then  I  would  not  wear  myself  with  strife,  but, 
remembering  that  a  man-child  may  grow  into  a 
king,  would  send  that  child  away  beyond  the  power 
of  the  co-wife." 

"Is  it  so  easy  to  cut  away  the  hand?"  said  the 
Queen,  sobbing. 

"Better  the  hand  than  the  heart,  Sahiba.  Who 
could  guard  such  a  child  in  this  place?" 

The  Queen  pointed  to  Kate.  "She  came  from 
far  off,  and  she  has  once  already  brought  him  back 
from  death." 

"  Her  drugs  are  good  and  her  skill  is  great,  but 
—  thou  knowest  she  is  but  a  maiden,  who  has 
known  neither  gain  nor  loss.  It  may  be  that  I 
am  luckless,  and  that  my  eyes  are  evil  —  thus  did 
not  my  man  ^ay  last  autumn  —  but  it  may  be.  Yet 


340  THE   NAULAHKA. 

I  know  the  pain  at  the  breast  and  the  yearning  ovel 
the  child  new-born  —  as  thou  hast  known  it." 

"As  I  have  known  it." 

"My  house  is  empty  and  I  am  a  widow  and 
childless,  and  never  again  shall  a  man  call  me  to 
wed." 

"As  I  am  —  as  I  am." 

"Nay,  the  little  one  is  left,  whatever  else  may 
go;  and  the  little  one  must  be  well  guarded.  If 
there  is  any  jealousy  against  the  child  it  were  not 
well  to  keep  him  in  this  hotbed.  Let  him  go 
out." 

"But  whither?  Miss  Kate,  dost  thou  know? 
The  world  is  all  dark  to  us  who  sit  behind  the 
curtain." 

"  I  know  that  the  child  of  his  own  motion  desires 
to  go  to  the  princes'  school  in  Ajmir.  He  has  told 
me  that  much,"  said  Kate,  who  had  lost  no  word 
of  the  conversation  from  her  place  on  the  cushion, 
bowed  forward  with  her  chin  supported  in  her 
hands.  "It  will  be  only  for  a  year  or  two." 

The  Queen  laughed  a  little  through  her  tears. 
"  Only  a  year  or  two,  Miss  Kate.  Dost  thou  know 
how  long  is  one  night  when  he  is  not  here  ? " 

"And  he  can  return  at  call;  but  no  cry  will 
bring  back  mine  own.  Only  a  year  or  two.  The 
world  is  dark  also  to  those  who  do  not  sit  behind 
the  curtain,  Sahiba.  It  is  no  fault  of  hers.  How 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND    EAST.  341 

should  she  know?"  said  the  woman  of  the  desert 
under  her  breath  to  the  Queen. 

Against  her  will,  Kate  began  to  feel  annoyed  at 
this  persistent  exclusion  of  herself  from  the  talk, 
and  the  assumption  that  she,  with  her  own  great 
trouble  upon  her,  whose  work  was  pre-eminently  to 
deal  with  sorrow,  must  have  no  place  in  this  double 
grief. 

"How  should  I  not  know?"  said  Kate  impetu- 
ously. "  Do  I  not  know  pain  ?  Is  it  not  my  life  ?  " 

"Not  yet,"  said  the  Queen  quietly.  "Neither 
pain  nor  joy.  Miss  Kate,  thou  art  very  wise,  and 
I  am  only  a  woman  who  has  never  stirred  beyond 
the  palace  walls.  But  I  am  wiser  than  thou,  for 
I  know  that  which  thou  dost  not  know,  though  thou 
hast  given  back  my  son  to  me,  and  to  this  woman 
her  husband's  speech.  How  shall  I  repay  thee 
all  I  owe?" 

"Let  her  hear  truth,"  said  the  woman  under  her 
breath.  "We  be  all  three  women  here,  Sahiba  — 
dead  leaf,  flowering  tree,  and  the  blossom  un- 
opened." 

The  Queen  caught  Kate's  hands  and  gently 
pulled  her  forward  till  her  head  fell  on  the  Queen's 
knees.  Wearied  with  the  emotions  of  the  morn- 
ing, unutterably  tired  in  body  and  spirit,  the  girl 
had  no  desire  to  lift  it.  The  small  hands  put  her 
hair  back  from  her  forehead,  and  the  full  darlr 


342  THE  NAULAHKA. 

eyes,  worn  with  much  weeping,  looked  into  her 
own.  The  woman  of  the  desert  flung  an  arm 
round  her  waist. 

"Listen,  my  sister,"  began  the  Queen,  with  an 
infinite  tenderness.  "There  is  a  proverb  among 
my  own  people,  in  the  mountains  of  the  north, 
that  a  rat  found  a  piece  of  turmeric,  and  opened  a 
druggist's  shop.  Even  so  with  the  pain  that  thou 
dost  know  and  heal,  beloved.  Thou  art  not  angry? 
Nay,  thou  must  not  take  offence.  Forget  that 
thou  art  white,  and  I  black,  and  remember  only 
that  we  three  be  sisters.  Little  sister,  with  us 
women  'tis  thus,  and  no  other  way.  From  all, 
except  such  as  have  borne  a  child,  the  world  is 
hid.  I  make  my  prayers  trembling  to  such  and 
such  a  god,  who  thou  sayest  is  black  stone,  and 
I  tremble  at  the  gusts  of  the  night  because  I  believe 
that  the  devils  ride  by  my  windows  at  such  hours ; 
and  I  sit  here  in  the  dark  knitting  wool  and  pre- 
paring sweetmeats  that  come  back  untasted  from 
my  lord's  table.  And  thou  coming  from  ten  thou- 
sand leagues  away,  very  wise  and  fearing  nothing, 
hast  taught  me,  oh,  ten  thousand  things.  Yet 
thou  art  the  child,  and  I  am  still  the  mother,  and 
what  I  know  thou  canst  not  know,  arid  the  wells 
of  my  happiness  thou  canst  not  fathom,  nor  the 
bitter  waters  of  my  sorrow  till  thou  hast  tasted 
sorrow  and  grief  alike.  I  have  told  thee  of  the 


A   STORY  OF   WEST  AND  BAST.  343 

child  —  all  and  more  than  all  thou  sayest?  Little 
sister,  I  have  told  thee  less  than  the  beginning 
of  my  love  for  him,  because  I  knew  that  thou 
couldst  not  understand.  I  have  told  thee  my  sor- 
rows—  all  and  more  than  all,  thou  sayest,  when 
I  laid  my  head  against  thy  breast?  How  could  I 
tell  thee  all?  Thou  art  a  maiden,  and  the  heart 
in  thy  bosom,  beneath  my  heart,  betrayed  in  its 
very  beat  that  it  did  not  understand.  Nay,  that 
woman  there,  coming  from  without,  knows  more 
of  me  than  thee?  And  they  taught  thee  in  a 
school,  thou  hast  told  me,  all  manner  of  healing, 
and  there  is  no  disease  in  life  that  thou  dost  not 
understand?  Little  sister,  how  couldst  thou  under- 
stand life  that  hast  never  given  it?  Hast  thou 
ever  felt  the  tug  of  the  child  at  the  breast?  Nay, 
what  need  to  blush?  Hast  thou?  I  know  thou 
hast  not.  Though  I  heard  thy  speech  for  the  first 
time,  and  looking  from  the  window  saw  thee  walk- 
ing, I  should  know.  And  the  others  —  my  sisters 
in  the  world  —  know  also.  But  they  do  not  all 
speak  to  thee  as  I  do.  When  the  life  quickens 
under  the  breast,  they,  waking  in  the  night,  hear 
all  the  earth  walking  to  that  measure.  Why 
should  they  tell  thee?  To-day  the  hospital  has 
broken  from  under  thee.  Is  it  not  so?  And  the 
women  went  out  one  by  one?  And  what  didst 
thou  say  to  them?" 


344  THE  NAULAHKA. 

The  woman  of  the  desert,  answering  for  her,  spoke. 
"She  said,  'Come  back,  and  I  will  make  ye  well.' ' 

"And  by  what  oath  did  she  affirm  her  words?" 

"There  was  no  oath,"  said  the  woman  of  the 
desert;  "she  stood  in  the  gate  and  called." 

"And  upon  what  should  a  maiden  call  to  bring 
wavering  women  back  again?  The  toil  that  she 
has  borne  for  their  sake?  They  cannot  see  it. 
But  of  the  pains  that  a  woman  has  shared  with 
them,  a  woman  knows.  There  was  no  child  in 
thy  arms.  The  mother  look  was  not  in  thy  eyes. 
By  what  magic,  then,  wouldst  thou  speak  to 
women?  There  was  a  charm  among  the  drugs, 
they  said,  and  their  children  would  be  misshapen. 
What  didst  thou  know  of  the  springs  of  life  and 
death  to  teach  them  otherwise?  It  is  written  in 
the  books  of  thy  school,  I  know,  that  such  things 
cannot  be.  But  we  women  do  not  read  books.  It 
is  not  from  them  that  we  learn  of  life.  How 
should  such  an  one  prevail,  unless  the  gods  help 
her  —  and  the  gods  are  very  far  away.  Thou  hast 
given  thy  life  to  the  helping  of  women.  Little 
sister,  when  wilt  thou  also  be  a  woman?" 

The  voice  ceased.  Kate's  head  was  buried  deep 
in  the  Queen's  lap.  She  let  it  lie  there  without 
stirring. 

"Ay!"  said  the  woman  of  the  desert.  "The 
mark  of  coverture  has  been  taken  from  my  head. 


A   STORY  OF  WEST  AND   EAST.  345 

my  glass  bangles  are  broken  on  my  arm,  and  I 
am  unlucky  to  meet  when  a  man  sets  forth  on  a 
journey.  Till  I  die  I  must  be  alone,  earning  my 
bread  alone,  and  thinking  of  the  dead.  But  though 
I  knew  that  it  was  to  come  again,  at  the  end  of 
one  year  instead  of  ten,  I  would  still  thank  the 
gods  that  have  given  me  love  and  a  child.  Will 
the  Miss  Sahib  take  this  in  payment  for  all  she 
did  for  my  man?  'A  wandering  priest,  a  childless 
woman,  and  a  stone  in  the  water  are  of  one  blood. ' 
So  says  the  talk  of  our  people.  What  will  the 
Miss  Sahib  do  now?  The  Queen  has  spoken  the 
truth.  The  gods  and  thy  own  wisdom,  which  is 
past  the  wisdom  of  a  maid,  have  helped  thee  so 
far,  as  I,  who  was  with  thee  always,  have  seen. 
The  gods  have  warned  thee  that  their  help  is  at 
an  end.  What  remains?  Is  this  work  for  such  as 
thou?  Is  it  not  as  the  Queen  says?  She,  sitting 
here  alone,  and  seeing  nothing,  has  seen  that  which 
I,  moving  with  thee  among  the  sick  day  by  day, 
have  seen  and  known.  Little  sister,  is  it  not  so?" 

Kate  lifted  her  head  slowly  from  the  Queen's 
knee,  and  rose. 

"Take  the  child,  and  let  us  go,"  she  said  hoarsely. 

The  merciful  darkness  of  the  room  hid  her  face. 

"Nay,"  said  the  Queen,  "this  woman  shall  take 
him.  Go  thou  back  alone." 

Kate  vanished. 


346  THE  NAULAHKA. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Law  whereby  my  Lady  moves 

Was  never  Law  to  me, 
But  'tis  enough  that  she  approves 

Whatever  Law  it  be. 

For  m  that  Law  and  by  that  Law 

My  constant  course  I'll  steer ; 
Not  that  I  heed  or  deem  it  dread, 

But  that  she  holds  it  dear. 

Tho'  Asia  sent  for  my  content 

Her  richest  argosies, 
Those  would  I  spurn  and  bid  return 

If  that  should  give  her  ease. 

With  equal  heart  I'd  watch  depart 

Each  spiced  sail  from  sight, 
Huns  bitterness,  desiring  less 

Great  gear  than  her  delight. 

Yet  such  am  I,  yea  such  am  I  — 

Sore  bond  and  freest  free — 
The  Law  that  sways  my  Lady's  ways 

Is  mystery  to  me  I  * 

To  sit  still,  and  to  keep  sitting  still,  is  the 
first  lesson  that  the  young  jockey  must  learn.  Tar- 
vin  was  learning  it  in  bitterness  of  spirit.  For  the 
sake  of  his  town,  for  the  sake  of  his  love,  and, 

*  Copyright,  1892,  by  Macmillan  &  Co. 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  BAST.  347 

above  all,  for  the  sake  of  his  love's  life,  he  must 
go.  The  town  was  waiting,  his  horse  was  saddled 
at  the  door,  but  his  love  would  not  come.  He 
must  sit  still. 

The  burning  desert  wind  blew  through  the  open 
veranda  as  remorselessly  as  Sitabhai's  hate.  Look- 
ing out,  he  saw  nothing  but  the  city  asleep  in  the 
sunshine  and  the  wheeling  kites  above  it.  Yet 
when  evening  fell,  and  a  man  might  be  able  by 
bold  riding  to  escape  to  the  railway,  certain  shrouded 
figures  would  creep  from  the  walls  and  take  up 
their  position  within  easy  gunshot  of  the  rest- 
house.  One  squatted  at  each  point  of  the  compass, 
and  between  them,  all  night  long,  came  and  went 
a  man  on  horseback.  Tarvin  could  hear  the  steady 
beat  of  the  hoofs  as  he  went  his  rounds,  and  the 
sound  did  not  give  him  fresh  hope.  But  for  Kate 
—  but  for  Kate,  he  repeated  to  himself,  he  would 
have  been  long  since  beyond  reach  of  horse  or 
bullet.  The  hours  were  very  slow,  and  as  he  sat 
and  watched  the  shadows  grow  and  shorten  it 
seemed  to  him,  as  it  had  seemed  so  often  before, 
that  this  and  no  other  was  the  moment  that  Topaz 
would  choose  to  throw  her  chances  from  her. 

He  had  lost  already,  he  counted,  eight-and-forty 
precious  hours,  and,  so  far  as  he  could  see,  the 
remainder  of  the  year  might  be  spent  in  an  equally 
unprofitable  fashion. 


348  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

Meantime  Kate  lay  exposed  to  every  imaginable 
danger.  Sitabhai  was  sure  to  assume  that  he  had 
wrested  the  necklace  from  her  for  the  sake  of  the 
"frail  white  girl";  she  had  said  as  much  on  the 
dam.  It  was  for  Kate's  sake,  in  a  measure;  but 
Tarvin  reflected  bitterly  that  an  Oriental  had  no 
sense  of  proportion,  and,  like  the  snake,  strikes  first 
at  that  which  is  nearest.  And  Kate  ?  How  in  the 
world  was  he  to  explain  the  case  to  her?  He  had 
told  her  of  danger  about  her  path  as  well  as  his 
own,  and  she  had  decided  to  face  that  danger. 
For  her  courage  and  devotion  he  loved  her;  but 
her  obstinacy  made  him  grit  his  teeth.  There  was 
but  one  grimly  comical  element  in  the  terrible 
jumble.  What  would  the  King  say  to  Sitabhai 
when  he  discovered  that  she  had  lost  the  Luck  of 
the  State?  In  what  manner  would  she  veil  that 
loss;  and,  above  all,  into  what  sort  of  royal  rage 
would  she  fall  ?  Tarvin  shook  his  head  meditatively. 
"It's  quite  bad  enough  for  me,'*  he  said,  "just 
about  as  bad  as  it  can  possibly  be  made;  but  I 
have  a  wandering  suspicion  that  it  may  be  un- 
wholesome for  Juggut.  Yes!  I  can  spare  time 
to  be  very  sorry  for  Juggut.  My  fat  friend,  you 
should  have  held  straight  that  first  time,  outside 
the  city  walls !  " 

He  rose  and  looked  out  into  the  sunlight,  won- 
dering which  of  the  scattered  vagrants  by  the 


A   STOBY   OP   WEST  AND  EAST.  849 

roadside  might  be  an  emissary  from  the  palace.  A 
man  lay  apparently  asleep  by  the  side  of  his  camel 
near  the  road  that  ran  to  the  city.  Tarvin  stepped 
out  casually  from  the  veranda,  and  saw,  as  soon 
as  he  was  fairly  in  the  open,  that  the  sleeper  rolled 
round  to  the  other  side  of  his  beast.  He  strolled 
forward  a  few  paces.  The  sunlight  glinted  above 
the  back  of  the  camel  on  something  that  shone  like 
silver.  Tarvin  marched  straight  toward  the  glitter, 
his  pistol  in  his  hand.  The  man,  when  he  came  up 
to  him,  was  buried  in  innocent  slumber.  Under 
the  fold  of  his  garment  peered  the  muzzle  of  a 
new  and  very  clean  rifle. 

"  Looks  as  if  Sitabhai  was  calling  out  the  militia, 
and  supplying  them  with  outfits  from  her  private 
armory.  Juggut's  gun  was  new,  too,"  said  Tarvin, 
standing  over  the  sleeper.  "But  this  man  knows 
more  about  guns  than  Juggut.  Hi ! "  He  stooped 
down  and  stirred  the  man  up  with  the  muzzle  of 
his  revolver.  "I'm  afraid  I  must  trouble  you  for 
that  gun.  And  tell  the  lady  to  drop  it,  will  you  ? 
It  won't  pay." 

The  man  understood  the  unspoken  eloquence  of 
the  pistol,  and  nothing  more.  He  gave  up  his 
gun  sullenly  enough,  and  moved  away,  lashing  his 
camel  spitefully. 

"  Now,  I  wonder  how  many  more  of  her  army  I 
shall  have  to  disarm,"  said  Tarvin,  retracing  his 


350  THE  NAULAHEA. 

steps,  the  captured  gun  over  his  shoulder.  "1 
wonder  —  no,  I  won't  believe  that  she  would  dare  to 
do  anything  to  Kate !  She  knows  enough  of  me  to 
be  sure  that  I'd  blow  her  and  her  old  palace  into 
to-morrow.  If  she's  half  the  woman  she  pretends 
to  be,  she'll  reckon  with  me  before  she  goes  much 
further." 

In  vain  he  attempted  to  force  himself  into  this 
belief.  Sitabhai  had  shown  him  what  sort  of  thing 
her  mercy  might  be,  and  Kate  might  have  tasted 
it  ere  this.  To  go  to  her  now  —  to  be  maimed  or 
crippled  at  the  least  if  he  went  to  her  now  —  was 
impossible.  Yet,  he  decided  that  he  would  go. 
He  returned  hastily  to  Fibby,  whom  he  had  left 
not  three  minutes  before  flicking  flies  off  in  the 
sunshine  at  the  back  of  the  rest-house.  But  Fibby 
lay  on  his  side  groaning  piteously,  hamstrung  and 
dying. 

Tarvin  could  hear  his  groom  industriously  polish- 
ing a  bit  round  the  corner,  and  when  the  man  came 
up  in  response  to  his  call  he  flung  himself  down 
by  the  side  of  the  horse,  howling  with  grief. 

"  An  enemy  hath  done  this,  an  enemy  hath  done 
this !  "  he  clamored.  "  My  beautiful  brown  horse 
that  never  did  harm  except  when  he  kicked  through 
fulness  of  meat!  Where  shall  I  find  a  new  ser- 
vice if  I  let  my  charge  die  thus?" 

"  I  wish  I  knew  1    I  wish  I  knew  1 "  said  Tarvin, 


A  STORY   OF   WEST   AND   EAST.  851 

jpuzzled,  and  almost  despairing.  "There'd  be  a 
Ibullet  through  one  black  head,  if  I  were  just  a  little 
•surer.  Get  up,  you  I  Fibby,  old  man,  I  forgive 
jou  all  your  sins.  You  were  a  good  old  boy,  and 
—  here's  luck." 

The  blue  smoke  enveloped  Fibby's  head  for  an 
iinstant,  the  head  fell  like  a  hammer,  and  the  good 
Ihorse  was  out  of  his  pain.  The  groom,  rising, 
irent  the  air  with  grief,  till  Tarvin  kicked  him  out 
iof  the  pickets  and  bade  him  begone.  Then  it 
was  noticeable  that  his  cries  ceased  suddenly,  and, 
las  he  retreated  into  his  mud-house  to  tie  up  his 
•effects,  he  smiled  and  dug  up  some  silver  from  a 
-hole  under  his  bedstead. 

Tarvin,  dismounted,  looked  east,  west,  north, 
(South  for  help,  as  Sitabhai  had  looked  on  the  dam. 
A  wandering  gang  of  gypsies  with  their  lean  bul- 
locks and  yelping  dogs  turned  an  angle  of  the  city 
wall,  and  rested  like  a  flock  of  unclean  birds  by 
the  city  gate.  The  sight  in  itself  was  not  unusual, 
'but  city  regulations  forbade  camping  within  a 
•quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  walls. 

"Some  of  the  lady's  poor  relatives,  I  suppose. 
They  have  blocked  the  way  through  the  gate  pretty 
well.  Now,  if  I  were  to  make  a  bolt  of  it  to  the 
missionary's  they'd  have  me,  wouldn't  they?" 
imuttered  Tarvin  to  himself.  "On  the  whole,  I've 
iseen  prettier  professions  than  trading  with  Eastern 


352  THE  NAULAHKA. 

queens.  They  don't  seem  to  understand  the  rules 
of  the  game." 

At  that  moment  a  cloud  of  dust  whirled  through 
the  gypsy  camp,  as  the  escort  of  the  Maharaj  Kun- 
war,  clearing  the  way  for  the  barouche,  scattered 
the  dark  band  to  the  left  and  right.  Tarvin  won- 
dered what  this  might  portend.  The  escort  halted 
with  the  customary  rattle  of  accoutrements  at  the 
rest-house  door,  the  barouche  behind  them.  A  sin- 
gle trooper,  two  hundred  yards  or  more  in  the  rear, 
lifted  his  voice  in  a  deferential  shout  as 'he  pur- 
sued the  carriage.  He  was  answered  by  a  chuckle 
from  the  escort,  and  two  shrill  screams  of  delight 
from  the  occupants  of  the  barouche. 

A  child  whom  Tarvin  had  never  before  seen 
stood  upright  in  the  back  of  the  carriage,  and 
hurled  a  torrent  of  abuse  in  the  vernacular  at  the 
outpaced  trooper.  Again  the  escort  laughed. 

"Tarvin  Sahib!  Tarvin  Sahib!"  piped  the  Maha- 
raj Kunwar.  "Come  and  look  at  us." 

For  a  moment  Tarvin  fancied  this  a  fresh  device 
of  the  enemy;  but,  reassured  by  the  sight  of  his 
old  and  trusted  ally,  the  Maharaj,  he  stepped  for- 
ward. 

"Prince,"  he  said,  as  he  took  his  hand,  "you 
ought  not  to  be  out." 

"Oh,  it  is  all  right,"  said  the  young  man  hastily, 
though  his  little  pale  face  belied  it.  "I  gave  the 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  353 

order  and  we  came.  Miss  Kate  gives  me  orders; 
but  she  took  me  over  to  the  palace,  and  there  I 
give  orders.  This  is  Umr  Singh  —  my  brother, 
the  little  Prince;  but  /shall  be  King." 

The  second  child  raised  his  eyes  slowly  and  looked 
full  at  Tarvin.  The  eyes  and  the  low  broad  fore- 
head were  those  of  Sitabhai,  and  the  mouth  closed 
firmly  over  the  little  pearl-like  teeth,  as  his  moth- 
er's mouth  had  closed  in  the  conflict  on  the  Dungar 
Talao. 

"He  is  from  the  other  side  of  the  palace,"  an- 
swered the  Maharaj,  still  in  English.  "From  the 
other  side,  where  I  must  not  go.  But  when  I 
was  in  the  palace  I  went  to  him  —  ha,  ha,  Tarvin 
Sahib  —  and  he  was  killing  a  goat.  Look!  His 
hands  are  all  red  now." 

Umr  Singh  opened  a  tiny  palm  at  a  word  from 
the  Maharaj  in  the  vernacular,  and  flung  it  out- 
ward at  Tarvin.  It  was  dark  with  dried  blood,  and 
a  bearded  whisper  ran  among  the  escort.  The 
commandant  turned  in  his  saddle,  and,  nodding  at 
Tarvin,  muttered,  "  Sitabhai  !  "  Tarvin  caught  the 
first  word,  and  it  was  sufficient  for  him.  Provi- 
dence had  sent  him  help  out  of  a  clear  sky.  He 
framed  a  plan  instantly. 

"  But  how  did  you  come  here,  you  young  imps  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

"  Oh,  there  are  only  women  in  the  palace  yonder, 
2  A. 


354  THE  NAULAHKA. 

and  I  am  a  Rajput  and  a  man.  He  cannot  speak 
any  English  at  all,"  he  added,  pointing  to  his 
companion;  "but  when  we  have  played  together  I 
have  told  him  about  you,  Tarvin  Sahib,  and  about 
the  day  you  picked  me  out  of  my  saddle,  and  he 
wished  to  come  too,  to  see  all  the  things  you 
show  me,  so  I  gave  the  order  very  quietly,  and 
we  came  out  of  the  little  door  together.  And  so 
we  are  here!  Salaam  baba,"  he  said  patronizingly, 
to  the  child  at  his  side,  and  the  child,  slowly  and 
gravely,  raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  still  gazing 
with  fixed,  incurious  eyes  on  the  stranger.  Then 
he  whispered  something  that  made  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar  laugh.  "He  says,"  said  the  Maharaj  Kun- 
war,  "that  you  are  not  so  big  as  he  thought.  His 
mother  told  him  that  you  were  stronger  than  any 
man,  but  some  of  these  troopers  are  bigger  than 

you." 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  asked 
Tarvin. 

"  Show  him  your  gun,  and  how  you  shoot  rupees, 
and  what  you  do  that  makes  horses  quiet  when 
they  kick,  and  all  those  things." 

"All  right,"  said  Tarvin.  "But  I  can't  show 
them  here.  Come  over  to  Mr.  Estes  with  me." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  go  there.  My  monkey  is  dead. 
And  I  do  not  think  Kate  would  like  to  see  us. 
She  is  always  crying  now.  She  took  me  up  to 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  355 

the  palace  yesterday,  and  this  morning  I  went  to 
her  again;  but  she  would  not  see  me." 

Tarvin  could  have  hugged  the  child  for  the 
blessed  assurance  that  Kate  at  least  still  lived. 
"  Isn't  she  at  the  hospital,  then  ?  "  he  asked  thickly. 

"  Oh,  the  hospital  has  all  gone  phut.  There  are 
no  women  now.  They  all  ran  away." 

"No!"  cried  Tarvin.  "Say  that  again,  little 
man.  What  for?" 

"Devils,"  said  the  Maharaj  Kunwar  briefly. 
"What  do  I  know?  It  was  some  women's  talk. 
Show  him  how  you  ride,  Tarvin  Sahib." 

Again  Umr  Singh  whispered  to  his  companion, 
and  put  one  leg  over  the  side  of  the  barouche. 
"  He  says  he  will  ride  in  front  of  you,  as  I  told  him 
I  did,"  interpreted  the  Prince.  "Gurdit  Singh, 
dismount!" 

A  trooper  flung  himself  out  of  the  saddle  on 
the  word,  and  stood  to  attention  at  the  horse's  head. 
Tarvin,  smiling  to  himself  at  the  perfection  of  his 
opportunity,  said  nothing,  but  leaped  into  the 
saddle,  picked  Umr  Singh  out  of  his  barouche,  and 
placed  him  carefully  before  him. 

"Sitabhai  would  be  rather  restless  if  she  could 
see  me,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  as  he  tucked 
his  arm  round  the  lithe  little  figure.  "I  don't 
think  there  will  be  any  Juggutting  while  I  carry 
this  young  man  in  front  of  me." 


856  THE  NAULAHKA. 

As  the  escort  opened  to  allow  Tarvin  to  take 
his  place  at  their  head,  a  wandering  priest,  who 
had  been  watching  the  episode  from  a  little  dis- 
tance, turned  and  shouted  with  all  the  strength  of 
his  lungs  across  the  plain,  in  the  direction  of  the 
city.  The  cry  was  taken  up  by  unseen  voices, 
passed  on  to  the  city  walls,  and  died  away  on  the 
sands  beyond. 

Umr  Singh  smiled,  as  the  horse  began  to  trot, 
and  urged  Tarvin  to  go  faster.  This  the  Maharaj 
forbade.  He  wished  to  see  the  sight  comfortably 
from  his  seat  in  the  barouche.  As  he  passed  the 
gypsy  camp,  men  and  women  threw  themselves 
down  on  the  sands,  crying,  "Jin*/  Jungle  da  Sad- 
shah  jai ! "  and  the  faces  of  the  troopers  darkened. 

"That  means,"  cried  the  Maharaj  Kunwar,  "Vic- 
tory to  the  king  of  the  desert.  I  have  no  money 
to  give  them.  Have  you,  Tarvin  Sahib?" 

In  his  joy  at  being  now  safely  on  his  way  to 
Kate,  Tarvin  could  have  flung  everything  he  pos- 
sessed to  the  crowd — almost  the  Naulahka  itself. 
He  emptied  a  handful  of  copper  and  small  silver 
among  them,  and  the  cry  rose  again,  but  bitter 
laughter  was  mingled  with  it,  and  the  gypsy  folk 
called  to  each  other,  mocking.  The  Maharaj  Kun- 
war's  face  turned  scarlet.  He  leaned  forward  lis- 
tening for  an  instant,  and  then  shouted,  "By 
Indur,  it  is  for  him  I  Scatter  their  tents ! "  At  a 


A  STORY  OF   WEST   AND  BAST.  357 

wave  of  his  hand  the  escort,  wheeling,  plunged 
through  the  camp  in  line,  driving  the  light  ash 
of  the  fires  up  in  clouds,  slashing  the  donkeys 
with  the  flat  of  their  swords  until  they  stampeded, 
and  carrying  away  the  frail  brown  tents  on  the 
butts  of  their  reversed  lances. 

Tarvin  looked  on  contentedly  at  the  dispersal 
of  the  group,  which  he  knew  would  have  stopped 
him  if  he  had  been  alone. 

Umr  Singh  bit  his  lip.  Then,  turning  to  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar,  he  smiled,  and  put  forward  from 
his  belt  the  hilt  of  his  sword  in  sign  of  fealty. 

"It  is  just,  my  brother,"  he  said  in  the  vernac- 
ular. "  But  I "  —  here  he  raised  his  voice  a  little 
— "  would  not  drive  the  gypsy  folk  too  far.  They 
always  return." 

"Ay,"  cried  a  voice  from  the  huddled  crowd, 
watching  the  wreck  of  the  camp,  significantly, 
"gypsies  always  return,  my  King." 

"So  does  a  dog,"  said  the  Maharaj,  between 
his  teeth.  "Both  are  kicked.  Drive  on." 

And  a  pillar  of  dust  came  to  Estes's  house,  Tar- 
vin riding  in  safety  in  the  midst  of  it. 

Telling  the  boys  to  play  until  he  came  out,  he 
swept  into  the  house,  taking  the  steps  two  at  a 
time,  and  discovered  Kate  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
parlor  with  a  bit  of  sewing  in  her  hand.  As  she 
looked  up  he  saw  that  she  was  crying. 


358  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"Nick!"  she  exclaimed  voicelessly.  "Nick!* 
He  had  stopped  hesitating  on  the  threshold;  she 
dropped  her  work,  and  rose  breathless.  "You  have 
come  back !  It  is  you !  You  are  alive !  " 

Tarvin  smiled,  and  held  out  his  arms.  "Come 
and  see ! "  She  took  a  step  forward. 

"Oh,  I  was  afraid—" 

"Come!" 

She  went  doubtfully  toward  him.  He  caught 
her  fast,  and  held  her  in  his  arms. 

For  a  long  minute  she  let  her  head  lie  on  his 
breast.  Then  she  looked  up.  "This  isn't  what 
I  meant,"  she  protested. 

"Oh,  don't  try  to  improve  on  it!"  Tarvin  said 
hastily. 

"She  tried  to  poison  me.  I  was  sure  when  I 
heard  nothing  that  she  must  have  killed  you.  I 
fancied  horrible  things." 

"  Poor  child !  And  your  hospital  has  gone  wrong ! 
You  have  been  having  a  hard  time.  But  we  will 
change  all  that.  We  must  leave  as  soon  as  you 
can  get  ready.  I've  nipped  her  claws  for  a  moment; 
I'm  holding  a  hostage.  But  we  can't  keep  that 
up  for  ever.  We  must  get  away." 

"  We !  "  she  repeated  feebly. 

"Well,  do  you  want  to  go  alone?" 

She  smiled  as  she  released  herself.  "I  want 
you  to." 


A  STORY   OP   WEST   AND   EAST.  359 

"And  you?" 

"I'm  not  worth  thinking  of.  I  have  failed. 
Everything  I  meant  to  do  has  fallen  about  me  in 
a  heap.  I  feel  burnt  out,  Nick  —  burnt  out  I" 

"All  right!  We'll  put  in  new  works  and  launch 
you  on  a  fresh  system.  That's  what  I  want. 
There  shall  be  nothing  to  remind  you  that  you  ever 
saw  Rhatore,  dear." 

"It  was  a  mistake,"  she  said. 

"What?" 

"Everything.  My  coming.  My  thinking  I 
could  do  it.  It's  not  a  girl's  work.  It's  my  work, 
perhaps ;  but  it's  not  for  me.  I  have  given  it 
up,  Nick.  Take  me  home." 

Tarvin  gave  an  unbecoming  shout  of  joy,  and 
folded  her  in  his  arms  again.  He  told  her  that 
they  must  be  married  at  once,  and  start  that  night, 
if  she  could  manage  it;  and  Kate,  dreading  what 
might  befall  him,  assented  doubtfully.  She  spoke 
of  preparations;  but  Tarvin  said  that  they  would 
prepare  after  they  had  done  it.  They  could  buy 
things  at  Bombay  —  stacks  of  things.  He  was 
sweeping  her  forward  with  the  onrush  of  his  ex- 
tempore plans,  when  she  said  suddenly,  "  But  what 
of  the  dam,  Nick?  You  can't  leave  that." 

"  Shucks !  "  exclaimed  Tarvin  heartily.  "  You 
don't  suppose  there's  any  gold  in  the  old  river," 
do  you?" 


360  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

She  recoiled  quickly  from  his  arms,  staring  at 
him  in  accusation  and  reproach. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  have  always  known  that 
there  was  no  gold  there?"  she  asked. 

Tarvin  pulled  himself  together  quickly;  but  not 
so  quickly  that  she  did  not  catch  the  confession 
in  his  eye. 

"I  see  you  have,"  she  said  coldly. 

Tarvin  measured  the  crisis  which  had  suddenly 
descended  on  him  out  of  the  clouds;  he  achieved 
an  instantaneous  change  of  front,  and  met  her 
smiling. 

"Certainly,"  he  said;  "I  have  been  working  it 
as  a  blind." 

"A  blind?"  she  repeated.      "To   cover  what?" 

"You." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  inquired,  with  a 
look  in  her  eyes  which  made  him  uncomfortable. 

"The  Indian  Government  allows  no  one  to 
remain  in  the  State  without  a  definite  purpose.  I 
couldn't  tell  Colonel  Nolan  that  I  had  come  court- 
ing you,  could  I?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  you  could  have  avoided 
taking  the  Maharajah's  money  to  carry  out  this  — 
this  plan.  An  honest  man  would  have  avoided 
that." 

"  Oh,  look  here !  "  exclaimed  Tarvin. 

"How  could  you  cheat  the  King  into  thinking 


A  STOEY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  361 

that  there  was  a  reason  for  your  work,  how  could 
you  let  him  give  you  the  labor  of  a  thousand  men, 
how  could  you  take  his  money?  Oh,  Nick!" 

He  gazed  at  her  for  a  vacant  and  hopeless  min- 
ute. "Why,  Kate,"  he  exclaimed,  "do  you  know 
you  are  talking  of  the  most  stupendous  joke  the 
Indian  empire  has  witnessed  since  the  birth  of 
time?" 

This  was  pretty  good,  but  it  was  not  good 
enough.  He  plunged  for  a  stronger  hold  as  she 
answered,  with  a  perilous  little  note  of  breakdown 
in  her  voice,  "You  make  it  worse." 

"Well,  your  sense  of  humor  never  was  your 
strongest  point,  you  know,  Kate."  He  took  the 
seat  next  her,  leaned  over  and  took  her  hand,  as 
he  went  on.  "  Doesn't  it  strike  you  as  rather  amus- 
ing, though,  after  all,  to  rip  up  half  a  State  to  be 
near  a  very  small  little  girl  —  a  very  sweet,  very 
extra  lovely  little  girl,  but  still  a  rather  tiny  little 
girl  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  Amet  valley  ? 
Come  — doesn't  it?" 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say?"  asked  she.  Tar- 
vin  turned  pale.  He  knew  the  tone  of  finality  he 
heard  in  her  voice ;  it  went  with  a  certain  look  of 
scorn  when  she  spoke  of  any  form  of  moral  base- 
ness that  moved  her.  He  recognized  his  condem- 
nation in  it  and  shuddered.  In  the  moment  that 
passed,  while  he  still  kept  silence,  he  recognized 


362  THE  NAULAHKA. 

this  for  the  crisis  of  his  life.  Then  he  took  strong 
hold  of  himself,  and  said  quietly,  easily,  unscrupu- 
lously: 

"Why,  you  don't  suppose  that  I'm  not  going 
to  ask  the  Maharajah  for  his  bill,  do  you?" 

She  gasped  a  little.  Her  acquaintance  with  Tar- 
vin  did  not  help  her  to  follow  his  dizzying  changes 
of  front.  His  bird's  skill  to  make  his  level  flight, 
his  reeling  dips  and  circling  returns  upon  himself, 
all  seem  part  of  a  single  impulse,  must  ever  remain 
confusing  to  her.  But  she  rightly  believed  in  his 
central  intention  to  do  the  square  thing,  if  he 
could  find  out  what  it  was;  and  her  belief  in  his 
general  strength  helped  her  not  to  see  at  this 
moment  that  he  was  deriving  his  sense  of  the  square 
thing  from  herself.  She  could  not  know,  and 
probably  could  not  have  imagined,  how  little  his 
own  sense  of  the  square  thing  had  to  do  with  any 
system  of  morality,  and  how  entirely  he  must 
always  define  morality  as  what  pleased  Kate. 
Other  women  liked  confections;  she  preferred  mo- 
rality, and  he  meant  she  should  have  it,  if  he  had 
to  turn  pirate  to  get  it  for  her. 

"You  didn't  think  I  wasn't  paying  for  the 
show?"  he  pursued  bravely;  but  in  his  heart  he 
was  saying,  "She  loathes  it.  She  hates  it.  Why 
didn't  I  think;  why  didn't  I  think?"  He  added 
aloud,  "I  had  my  fun,  and  now  I've  got  you. 


A  STOBY  OF   WEST  AND  EAST.  363 

You're  both  cheap  at  the  price,  and  I'm  going  to 
step  up  and  pay  it  like  a  little  man.  You  must 
know  that." 

His  smile  met  no  answering  smile.  He  mopped 
his  forehead  and  stared  anxiously  at  her.  All  the 
easiness  in  the  world  couldn't  make  him  sure  what 
she  would  say  next.  She  said  nothing,  and  he  had 
to  go  on  desperately,  with  a  cold  fear  gathering 
about  his  heart.  "Why,  it's  just  like  me,  isn't  it, 
Kate,  to  work  a  scheme  on  the  old  Rajah?  It's 
like  a  man  who  owns  a  mine  that's  turning  out 
$2000  a  month,  to  rig  a  game  out  in  this  desert 
country  to  do  a  confiding  Indian  prince  out  of  a 
few  thousand  rupees  ?  "  He  advanced  this  recently 
inspired  conception  of  his  conduct  with  an  air  of 
immemorial  familiarity,  born  of  desperation. 

"What  mine?"  she  asked  with  dry  lips. 

"The  'Lingering  Lode,'  of  course.  You've  heard 
me  speak  of  it?" 

"Yes,  but  I  didn't  know  —  " 

"That  it  was  doing  that?  Well,  it  is  — right 
along.  Want  to  see  the  assay?" 

"No,"  she  answered.  "No.  But  that  makes 
you —  Why,  but,  Nick,  that  makes  you  — " 

"  A  rich  man  ?  Moderately,  while  the  lead  holds 
out.  Too  rich  for  petty  larceny,  I  guess." 

He  was  joking  for  his  life.  The  heart-sickening 
seriousness  of  his  unseriousness  was  making  a  hole 


364  THE  NAULAHKA. 

in  his  head;  the  tension  was  too  much  for  him. 
In  the  mad  fear  of  that  moment  his  perceptions 
doubled  their  fineness.  Something  went  through 
him  as  he  said  "larceny."  Then  his  heart  stopped. 
A  sure,  awful,  luminous  perception  leaped  upon 
him,  and  he  knew  himself  for  lost. 

If  she  hated  this,  what  would  she  say  to  the 
other?  Innocent,  successful,  triumphant,  even  gay 
it  seemed  to  him;  but  what  to  her?  He  turned 
sick. 

Kate  or  the  Naulahka.  He  must  choose.  The 
Naulahka  or  Kate? 

"Don't  make  light  of  it,"  she  was  saying.  "You 
would  be  just  as  honest  if  you  couldn't  afford  it, 
Nick.  Ah,"  she  went  on,  laying  her  hand  on  his 
lightly,  in  mute  petition  for  having  even  seemed  to 
doubt  him,  "  I  know  you,  Nick !  You  like  to  make 
the  better  seem  the  worse  reason;  you  like  to  pre- 
tend to  be  wicked.  But  who  is  so  honest?  Oh, 
Nick!  I  knew  you  had  to  be  true.  If  you  weren't, 
everything  else  would  be  wrong." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms.  "Would  it,  little 
girl  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  down  at  her.  "  We  must 
keep  the  other  things  right,  then,  at  any  expense." 

He  heaved  a  deep  sigh  as  he  stooped  and  kissed 
her. 

"Have  you  such  a  thing  as  a  box?"  he  asked, 
after  a  long  pause. 


A   STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  865 

"Any  sort  of  box?"  asked  Kate,  bewilderedly. 

"No  —  well,  it  ought  to  be  the  finest  box  in 
the  world,  but  I  suppose  one  of  those  big  grape- 
boxes  will  do.  It  isn't  every  day  that  one  sends 
presents  to  a  queen." 

Kate  handed  him  a  large  chip  box  in  which  long 
green  grapes  from  Kabul  had  been  packed.  Dis- 
colored cotton  wool  lay  at  the  bottom. 

"That  was  sold  at  the  door  the  other  day,"  she 
said.  "Is  it  big  enough?" 

Tarvin  turned  away  without  answering,  emptied 
something  that  clicked  like  a  shower  of  pebbles 
upon  the  wool,  and  sighed  deeply.  Topaz  was  in 
that  box.  The  voice  of  the  Maharaj  Kunwar  lifted 
itself  from  the  next  room. 

"Tarvin  Sahib  —  Kate,  we  have  eaten  all  the 
fruit,  and  now  we  want  to  do  something  else." 

"One  moment,  little  man,"  said  Tarvin.  With 
his  back  still  toward  Kate,  he  drew  his  hand  caress- 
ingly, for  the  last  time,  over  the  blazing  heap  at 
the  bottom  of  the  box,  fondling  the  stones  one  by 
one.  The  great  green  emerald  pierced  him,  he 
thought,  with  a  reproachful  gaze.  A  mist  crept 
into  his  eyes:  the  diamond  was  too  bright.  He 
shut  the  lid  down  upon  the  box  hastily,  and  put 
it  into  Kate's  hands  with  a  decisive  gesture;  he 
made  her  hold  it  while  he  tied  it  in  silence.  Then, 
in  a  voice  not  his,  he  asked  her  to  take  the  box 


366  THE  NAULAHKA. 

to  Sitabhai  with  his  compliments.     "No,"  he  con- 
tinued, seeing  the  alarm  in  her  eyes.     "  She  won't 

—  she  daren't  hurt  you  now.     Her  child's  coming 
along  with  us;  and  I'll  go  with  you,  of  course,  as 
far  as  I  can.     Glory  be,   it's  the  last  journey  that 
you'll  ever  undertake  in  this  infernal  land.      The 
last  but  one,  that's  to  say.     We  live  at  high  press- 
ure  in   Rhatore  —  too  high  pressure   for  me.     Be 
quick,   if  you  love  me." 

Kate  hastened  to  put  on  her  helmet,  while  Tar- 
vin  amused  the  two  princes  by  allowing  them  to 
inspect  his  revolver,  and  promising  at  some  more 
fitting  season  to  shoot  as  many  coins  as  they  should 
demand.  The  lounging  escort  at  the  door  was 
suddenly  scattered  by  a  trooper  from  without,  who 
flung  his  horse  desperately  through  their  ranks, 
shouting,  "A  letter  for  Tarvin  Sahib!" 

Tarvin  stepped  into  the  veranda,  took  a  crumpled 
half-sheet  of  paper  from  the  outstretched  hand,  and 
read  these  words,  traced  painfully  and  laboriously 
in  an  unformed  round  hand: 

DEAR  MB.  TARVIN:  Give  me  the  boy  and  keep  the 
other  thing.  Your  affectionate 

FRIEND. 

Tarvin  chuckled  and  thrust  the  note  into  his 
waistcoat  pocket.  "There  is  no  answer,"  he  said 

—  and    to    himself:    "You're    a    thoughtful    girl, 


A  STORY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  367 

Sitabhai,  but  I'm  afraid  you're  just  a  little  too 
thoughtful.  That  boy's  wanted  for  the  next  half 
hour.  Are  you  ready,  Kate?" 

The  princes  lamented  loudly  when  they  were 
told  that  Tarvin  was  riding  over  to  the  palace  at 
once,  and  that,  if  they  hoped  for  further  entertain- 
ment, they  must  both  go  with  him.  "  We  will  go 
into  the  great  Durbar  Hall,"  said  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar  consolingly  to  his  companion  at  last, 
"and  make  all  the  music-boxes  play  together." 

"I  want  to  see  that  man  shoot,"  said  Umr  Singh. 
"I  want  to  see  him  shoot  something  dead.  I  do 
not  wish  to  go  to  the  palace." 

"You'll  ride  on  my  horse,"  said  Tarvin,  when 
the  answer  had  been  interpreted,  "and  I'll  make 
him  gallop  all  the  way.  Say,  Prince,  how  fast 
do  you  think  your  carriage  can  go?" 

"As  fast  as  Miss  Kate  dares." 

Kate  stepped  in,  and  the  cavalcade  galloped  to 
the  palace,  Tarvin  riding  always  a  little  in  front 
with  Umr  Singh  clapping  his  hands  on  the  saddle- 
bow. 

"We  must  pull  up  at  Sitabhai's  wing,  dear," 
Tarvin  cried.  "You  won't  be  afraid  to  walk  in 
under  the  arch  with  me?" 

"I  trust  you,  Nick,"  she  answered  simply,  get- 
ting out  of  the  carriage. 

"Then  go   into   the   woman's   wing.      Give   the 


868  THE  NAT7LAHKA. 

box  into  Sitabhai's  hands,  and  tell  her  that  1 
sent  it  back.  You'll  find  she  knows  my  name." 

The  horse  trampled  under  the  archway,  Kate  at 
its  side,  and  Tarvin  holding  Umr  Singh  very  much 
in  evidence.  The  court-yard  was  empty,  but  as 
they  came  out  into  the  sunshine  by  the  central 
fountain  the  rustle  and  whisper  behind  the  shutters 
rose,  as  the  tiger-grass  rustles  when  the  wind 
blows  through  it. 

"One  minute,  dear,"  said  Tarvin,  halting,  "if 
you  can  bear  this  sun  on  your  head." 

A  door  opened  and  a  eunuch  came  out,  beckon- 
ing silently  to  Kate.  She  followed  him  and  dis- 
appeared, the  door  closing  behind  her.  Tarvin 's 
heart  rose  into  his  mouth,  and  unconsciously  he 
clasped  Umr  Singh  so  closely  to  his  breast  that 
the  child  cried  out. 

The  whisper  rose,  and  it  seemed  to  Tarvin  as 
if  some  one  were  sobbing  behind  the  shutters. 
Then  followed  a  peal  of  low,  soft  laughter,  and 
the  muscles  at  the  corner  of  Tarvin's  mouth  re- 
laxed. Umr  Singh  began  to  struggle  in  his  arms. 

"Not  yet,  young  man.  You  must  wait  until  — 
ah  I  thank  God." 

Kate  reappeared,  her  little  figure  framed  against 
the  darkness  of  the  doorway.  Behind  her  came 
the  eunuch,  crawling  fearfully  to  Tarvin's  side. 
Tarvin  smiled  affably,  and  dropped  the  amazed 


A  STOBY  OF  WEST  AND  BAST.  369 

young  Prince  into  his  arms.  Umr  Singh  was  borne 
away  kicking,  and  ere  they  left  the  court-yard 
Tarvin  heard  the  dry  roar  of  an  angry  child,  fol- 
lowed by  an  unmistakable  yelp  of  pain.  Tarvin 
smiled. 

"  They  spank  young  princes  in  Rajputana.  That's 
one  step  on  the  path  to  progress.  What  did  she 
say,  Kate?" 

"She  said  I  was  to  be  sure  and  tell  you  that 
she  knew  you  were  not  afraid.  'Tell  Tarvin  Sahib 
that  I  knew  he  was  not  afraid. ' ' 

"Where's  Umr  Singh?"  asked  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar  from  the  barouche. 

"He's  gone  to  his  mother.  I'm  afraid  I  can't 
amuse  you  just  now,  little  man.  I've  forty  thou- 
sand things  to  do,  and  no  time  to  do  them  in. 
Tell  me  where  your  father  is." 

"I  do  not  know.  There  has  been  trouble  and 
crying  in  the  palace.  The  women  are  always 
crying,  and  that  makes  my  father  angry.  I  shall 
stay  at  Mr.  Estes's,  and  play  with  Kate." 

"Yes.  Let  him  stay,"  said  Kate,  quickly. 
"Nick,  do  you  think  I  ought  to  leave  him?" 

"That's  another  of  the  things  I  must  fix,"  said 
Tarvin.  "But  first  I  must  find  the  Maharajah, 
if  I  have  to  dig  up  Rhatore  for  him.  What's  that, 
little  one?" 

A  trooper  whispered  to  the  young  Prince. 

2B 


870  THE  NAULAHKA. 

"This  man  says  that  he  is  there,"  said  the 
Maharaj  Kunwar.  "He  has  been  there  since  two 
days.  I  also  have  wished  to  see  him." 

"Very  good.  Drive  home,  Kate.  I'll  wait 
here." 

He  re-entered  the  archway,  and  reined  up. 
Again  the  whisper  behind  the  shutter  rose,  and  a 
man  from  a  doorway  demanded  his  business. 

"I  must  see  the  Maharajah,"  said  Tarvin. 

"Wait,"  said  the  man.  And  Tarvin  waited  for 
a  full  five  minutes,  using  his  time  for  concentrated 
thought. 

Then  the  Maharajah  emerged,  and  amiability  sat 
on  every  hair  of  his  newly  oiled  moustache. 

For  some  mysterious  reason  Sitabhai  had  with- 
drawn the  light  of  her  countenance  from  him 
for  two  days,  and  had  sat  raging  in  her  own  apart- 
ments. Now  the  mood  had  passed,  and  the  gypsy 
would  see  him  again.  Therefore  the  Maharajah's 
heart  was  glad  within  him ;  and  wisely,  as  befitted 
the  husband  of  many  wives,  he  did  not  inquire  too 
closely  into  the  reasons  that  had  led  to  the  change. 

"Ah,  Tarvin  Sahib,"  said  he,  "I  have  not  seen 
you  for  long.  What  is  the  news  from  the  dam? 
Is  there  anything  to  see?" 

"Maharajah  Sahib,  that's  what  I've  come  to  talk 
about.  There  is  nothing  to  see,  and  I  think  that 
there  is  no  gold  to  be  got  at." 


A  STORY  OF  WEST  AND  EAST.  371 

"That  is  bad,"  said  the  King,  lightly. 

"But  there  is  a  good  deal  to  be  seen,  if  you 
care  to  come  along.  I  don't  want  to  waste  your 
money  any  more,  now  I'm  sure  of  the  fact;  but  I 
don't  see  the  use  of  saving  all  the  powder  on  the 
dam.  There  must  be  five  hundred  pounds  of  it." 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  Maharajah, 
whose  mind  was  occupied  with  other  things. 

"Do  you  want  to  see  the  biggest  explosion  that 
you've  ever  seen  in  your  life  ?  Do  you  want  to 
hear  the  earth  shake,  and  see  the  rocks  fly?" 

The  Maharajah's  face  brightened. 

"Will  it  be  seen  from  the  palace?"  he  said; 
"from  the  top  of  the  palace?" 

"Oh,  yes.  But  the  best  place  to  watch  it  will 
be  from  the  side  of  the  river.  I  shall  put  the 
river  back  at  five  o'clock.  It's  three  o'clock  now. 
Will  you  be  there,  Maharajah  Sahib?" 

"I  will  be  there.  It  will  be  a  big  tamasha. 
Five  hundred  pounds  of  powder!  The  earth  will 
be  rent  in  two." 

"I  should  remark.  And  after  that,  Maharajah 
Sahib,  I  am  going  to  be  married;  and  then  I  am 
going  away.  Will  you  come  to  the  wedding?" 

The  Maharajah  shaded  his  eyes  from  the  sun- 
glare,  and  peered  up  at  Tarvin  under  his  turban. 

"By  God,  Tarvin  Sahib,"  said  he,  "you  are  a 
quick  man.  So  you  will  marry  the  doctor-lady, 


372  THE   NAULAHKA. 

and  then  you  will  go  away?    I  will  come  to  the 
wedding.     I  and  Pertab  Singh." 

THE  next  two  hours  in  the  life  of  Nicholas 
Tarvin  will  never  be  adequately  chronicled.  There 
was  a  fierce  need  upon  him  to  move  mountains 
and  shift  the  poles  of  the  earth;  there  was  a 
strong  horse  beneath  him,  and  in  his  heart  the 
knowledge  that  he  had  lost  the  Naulahka  and 
gained  Kate.  When  he  appeared,  a  meteor  amid 
the  coolies  on  the  dam,  they  understood,  and  a 
word  was  spoken  that  great  things  were  toward. 
The  gang  foreman  turned  to  his  shouts,  and  learned 
that  the  order  of  the  day  was  destruction  —  the 
one  thing  that  the  Oriental  fully  comprehends. 

They  dismantled  the  powder-shed  with  outcries 
and  fierce  yells,  hauled  the  bullock-carts  from  the 
crown  of  the  dam,  and  dropped  the  derrick  after 
them,  and  tore  down  the  mat  and  grass  coolie- 
lines.  Then,  Tarvin  urging  them  always,  they 
buried  the  powder-casks  in  the  crown  of  the  half- 
built  dam,  piled  the  wrapped  charges  upon  them, 
and  shovelled  fresh  sand  atop  of  all. 

It  was  a  hasty  onslaught,  but  the  powder  was 
at  least  all  in  one  place;  and  it  should  be  none 
of  Tarvin 's  fault  if  the  noise  and  smoke  at  least 
did  not  delight  the  Maharajah. 

A  little  before  five  he  came  with  his  escort,   and 


A   STOBY   OF   WEST   AND  EAST.  373 

Tarvin,  touching  fire  to  a  many  times  lengthened 
fuse,  bade  all  men  run  back.  The  fire  ate  slowly 
the  crown  of  the  dam.  Then  with  a  dull  roar 
the  dam  opened  out  its  heart  in  a  sheet  of  white 
flame,  and  the  masses  of  flying  earth  darkened  the 
smoke  above. 

The  ruin  closed  on  itself  for  an  instant  ere  the 
waters  of  the  Amet  plunged  forward  into  the  gap, 
made  a  boiling  rapid,  and  then  spread  themselves 
lazily  along  their  accustomed  levels. 

The  rain  of  things  descending  pitted  the  earth 
of  the  banks  and  threw  the  water  in  sheets  and 
spurts.  Then  only  the  smoke  and  the  blackened 
flanks  of  the  dam,  crumbling  each  minute  as  the 
river  sucked  them  down,  remained  to  tell  of  the 
work  that  had  been. 

"And  now,  Maharajah  Sahib,  what  do  I  owe 
you?"  said  Tarvin,  after  he  had  satisfied  himself 
that  none  of  the  more  reckless  coolies  had  been 
killed. 

"That  was  very  fine,"  said  the  Maharajah.  "I 
never  saw  that  before.  It  is  a  pity  that  it  cannot 
come  again." 

"What  do  I  owe  you?"   repeated  Tarvin. 

"For  that?  Oh,  they  were  my  people.  They 
ate  a  little  grain,  and  many  were  from  my  jails. 
The  powder  was  from  the  arsenal.  "What  is  the 
use  to  talk  of  paying?  Am  I  a  bunnia  that  I 


374  THE  NAULAHKA. 

can  tell  what  there  is  to  pay?  It  was  a  fine 
tamasha.  By  God,  there  is  no  dam  left  at  all." 

"You  might  let  me  put  it  right." 

"Tarvin  Sahib,  if  you  waited  one  year,  or  per- 
haps two  years,  you  would  get  a  bill;  and  besides, 
if  anything  was  paid,  the  men  who  pay  the  con- 
victs  would  take  it  all,  and  I  should  not  be  richer. 
They  were  my  people,  and  the  grain  was  cheap, 
and  they  have  seen  the  tamasha.  Enough.  It  is 
not  good  to  talk  of  payment.  Let  us  return  to 
the  city.  By  God,  Tarvin  Sahib,  you  are  a  quick 
man.  Now  there  will  be  no  one  to  play  pachisi 
with  me  or  to  make  me  laugh.  And  the  Maharaj 
Kunwar  will  be  sorry  also.  But  it  is  good  that 
a  man  should  marry.  Yes,  it  is  good.  Why  do 
you  go,  Tarvin  Sahib?  Is  it  an  order  of  the 
Government?" 

"  Yes  —  the  American  government.  I  am  wanted 
there  to  help  govern  my  State." 

"No  telegram  has  come  for  you,"  said  the  King, 
simply.  "But  you  are  so  quick." 

Tarvin  laughed  lightly,  wheeled  his  horse  and 
was  gone,  leaving  the  King  interested  but  unmoved. 
He  had  finally  learned  to  accept  Tarvin  and  his 
ways  as  a  natural  phenomenon  beyond  control.  As 
he  drew  rein  instinctively  opposite  the  missionary's 
door  and  looked  for  a  instant  at  the  city,  the  sense 
of  the  otherness  of  daily-seen  things  that  heralds 


A  STORY  OF  WEST   AND   EAST. 

swift-coming  change  smote  the  mind  of  the  Ameri- 
can, and  he  shivered.  "It  was  a  bad  dream  —  a 
very  bad  dream,"  he  muttered,  "and  the  worst  of 
it  is  not  one  of  the  boys  in  Topaz  would  ever 
believe  half  of  it."  Then  the  eyes  that  swept  the 
arid  landscape  twinkled  with  many  reminiscences. 
"Tarvin,  my  boy,  you've  played  with  a  kingdom, 
and  for  results  it  lays  over  monkeying  with  the 
buzz-saw.  You  were  left  when  you  sized  this  state 
up  for  a  played-out  hole  in  the  ground.  Badly 
left.  If  you  have  been  romping  around  six  months 
after  something  you  hadn't  the  sabe  to  hold  when 
you'd  got,  you've  learned  that  much.  Topaz! 
Poor  old  Topaz  1" 

Again  his  eyes  ran  round  the  tawny  horizon, 
and  he  laughed  aloud.  The  little  town  under  the 
shadow  of  Big  Chief,  ten  thousand  miles  away  and 
all  ignorant  of  the  mighty  machinery  that  had 
moved  on  its  behalf,  would  have  resented  that 
laugh;  for  Tarvin,  fresh  from  events  that  had 
shaken  Rhatore  to  its  heart,  was  almost  patroniz- 
ing the  child  of  his  ambition. 

He  brought  his  hand  down  on  his  thigh  with  a 
smack,  and  turned  his  horse  towards  the  telegraph 
office.  "How  in  the  name  of  all  that's  good  and 
holy,"  said  he,  "am  I  to  clear  up  this  business 
with  the  Mutrie?  Even  a  copy  of  the  Naulahka 
in  glass  would  make  her  mouth  water."  The  horse 


SY6  THE  NAULAHKA. 

cantered  on  steadily  and  Tarvin  dismissed  the 
matter  with  a  generous  sweep  of  his  free  hand. 
"If  I  can  stand  it,  she  can.  But  I'll  prepare  her 
by  electricity." 

The  dove-colored  telegraph-operator  and  Post- 
master-general of  the  State  remembers  even  to-day 
how  the  Englishman,  who  was  not  an  Englishman 
and  therefore  doubly  incomprehensible,  climbed  for 
the  last  time  up  the  narrow  stairs,  sat  down  in 
the  broken  chair,  and  demanded  absolute  silence. 
How,  at  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes'  portentous 
meditation  and  fingering  of  a  thin  moustache,  he 
sighed  heavily  as  is  the  custom  of  Englishmen 
when  they  have  eaten  that  which  disagrees  with 
them,  waved  the  operator  aside,  called  up  the  next 
office,  and  clicked  off  a  message  with  a  haughty 
and  high-stepping  action  of  the  hands.  How  he 
lingered  long  and  lovingly  over  the  last  click, 
applied  his  ear  to  the  instrument  as  though  it 
could  answer,  and  turning  with  a  large,  sweet 
smile,  said:  —  "Finis  Babu;  make  a  note  of  that," 
and  swept  forth,  chanting  the  war-cry  of  his  State : 

"  It  is  not  wealth,  nor  rank,  nor  state, 
But  get-up-and-get  that  makes  men  great." 


The  bullock-cart  creaked  down  the  road  to  Rawut 
Junction   in   the   first  flush  of  a  purple  evening, 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND   EAST.  377 

and  the  low  ranges  of  the  Aravullis  showed  as 
many-colored  cloud-banks  against  the  turquoise 
sky-line.  Behind  it  the  red  rock  of  Rhatore  burned 
angrily  on  the  yellow  floors  of  the  desert,  speckled 
with  the  shadows  of  browsing  camels.  Overhead 
the  crane  and  the  wild  duck  were  flocking  back 
to  their  beds  in  the  reed,  and  gray  monkeys,  family 
by  family,  sat  on  the  roadside,  their  arms  round 
each  other's  necks.  The  Evening  Star  came  up 
from  behind  a  jagged  peak  of  rock  and  brushwood, 
that  its  reflection  might  swim  undisturbed  at  the 
bottom  of  an  almost  dried  reservoir,  buttressed  with 
time-yellowed  marble  and  flanked  with  silver  plume- 
grass.  Between  the  star  and  the  earth  wheeled 
huge  fox-headed  bats,  and  night-jars  hawking  for 
the  feather-winged  moths.  The  buffaloes  had  left 
their  water-holes,  and  the  cattle  were  lying  down 
for  the  night.  Then  villagers  in  far-away  huts 
began  to  sing,  and  the  hillsides  were  studded  with 
home-lights.  The  bullocks  grunted  as  the  driver 
twisted  their  tails,  and  the  high  grass  by  the  road- 
side brushed  with  the  wash  of  a  wave  of  the  open 
beach  against  the  slow-turning  tires. 

The  first  breath  of  a  cold-weather  night  made 
Kate  wrap  her  rugs  about  her  more  closely.  Tar- 
vin  was  sitting  at  the  back  of  the  cart,  swinging 
his  legs  and  staring  at  Rhatore  before  the  bends 
of  the  road  should  hide  it.  The  realization  of 


378  THE  NATJLAHKA. 

defeat,  remorse,  and  the  torture  of  an  over  well- 
trained  conscience  were  yet  to  come  to  Kate.  In 
that  hour,  luxuriously  disposed  upon  many  cush- 
ions, she  realized  nothing  more  than  a  woman's 
complete  contentment  with  the  fact  that  there  was 
a  man  in  the  world  to  do  things  for  her,  though 
she  had  not  yet  learned  to  lose  her  interest  in  how 
they  were  done.  The  reiterated  and  passionate 
farewells  of  the  women  in  the  palace,  and  the 
cyclonic  sweep  of  a  wedding  at  which  Nick  had 
altogether  refused  to  efface  himself  as  a  bridegroom 
should,  but  had  flung  all  their  world  forward  on 
the  torrent  of  his  own  vitality,  had  worn  her  out; 
the  yearning  of  homesickness  —  she  had  seen  it  in 
Mrs.  Estes's  wet  eyes  at  the  missionary's  house 
an  hour  before  —  lay  strong  upon  her,  and  she 
would  fain  have  remembered  her  plunge  into  the 
world's  evil  as  a  dream  of  the  night,  but  — 

"Nick,"  she  said  softly. 

"What  is  it,  little  woman?" 

"Oh,  nothing;  I  was  thinking.  Nick,  what  did 
you  do  about  the  Maharaj  Kunwar?" 

"  He's  fixed,  or  I'm  mistaken.  Don't  worry  your 
head  about  that.  After  I'd  explained  a  thing  or 
two  to  old  man  Nolan,  he  seemed  to  think  well 
of  inviting  that  young  man  to  board  with  him 
until  he  starts  for  the  Mayo  College.  Tumble?" 

"His  poor  mother  I     If  only  I  could  have  —  " 


A  STORY  OF   WEST  AND   BAST.  879 

"But  you  couldn't,  little  woman.  Hi!  Look 
quick,  Kate!  There  she  goesl  The  last  of  Rha< 
tore." 

A  string  of  colored  lights,  high  up  on  the 
hanging-gardens  of  the  palace,  was  disappearing 
behind  the  velvet  blackness  of  a  hill  shoulder. 
Tarvin  leaped  to  his  feet,  caught  the  side  of  the 
cart,  and  bowed  profoundly  after  the  Oriental 
manner. 

The  lights  disappeared  one  by  one,  even  as  the 
glories  of  a  necklace  had  slidden  into  a  cabuli 
grape-box,  till  there  remained  only  the  flare  from 
a  window  on  a  topmost  bastion  —  a  point  of  light 
as  red  and  as  remote  as  the  blaze  of  the  Black 
Diamond.  That  passed  too,  and  the  soft  darkness 
rose  out  of  the  earth  fold  upon  fold,  wrapping  the 
man  and  the  woman. 

"After  all,"  said  Tarvin,  addressing  the  new- 
lighted  firmament,  "that  was  distinctly  a  side- 


issue." 


THE  END* 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


University  of  California 

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